


Keeping It in the Family

by BadassBurgess



Category: Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Action, Crimes & Criminals, Drama, F/M, Linstead, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 73,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25634407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadassBurgess/pseuds/BadassBurgess
Summary: Hank Voight having to retire early was something no one imagined would happen. The choice of his successor was equally as surprising. (Linstead. Takes place five years after the end of season four.)
Relationships: Jay Halstead/Erin Lindsay
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

Hank Voight had been brought down, not by any of the criminals that he had made a hell of career out of catching, but by failing health.

There was a sombre atmosphere in the office of Chicago PD's Intelligence Unit, the likes of which Jay Halstead had never experienced before. He owed so much to Voight, as did everyone else in the room. Looking around, he could see that they were thinking the same thing he was: Could it really be true that their boss, mentor, even friend, could be forced into early retirement?

None of them wanted to believe it was going to happen. If Voight went, the division was likely to go with him. It had a reputation for bending the rules in order to get results. It was a deserved reputation, Halstead had to admit. But the team's results could not be dismissed. When it came to organised crime or special investigations, there was no better unit in the country, he felt sure. Now it might all be falling apart.

A couple of weeks earlier, the unthinkable had happened. Voight had suffered a stroke while working in his office. The thing that had made it even more shocking was that he hadn't been in one of his furious rages at the time, he had simply doing paperwork when Alvin Olinsky had heard him fall off his chair.

Rushed to hospital, Voight had remained there for six days before being released to go home. Having been to see the boss several times during his hospital stay and since his return home, Halstead knew that he was doing well, relatively speaking. Even the doctors had said they were surprised by how little lasting damage Voight had suffered from what they described as a serious stroke. He had complained of pins and needles in his left arm, and of struggling with his short term memory. As far as continuing to live a functional life, the news was good. But it was a disaster for someone who was meant to lead an elite police unit.

"There's no way they'll let him back out there on duty," Olinsky had said at one point, sounding as cut up about it as everyone else felt. Al had been put in temporary charge of the unit, told that a further, permanent decision would be made in the near future. The wording hadn't sounded promising, which was part of the reason for the sombre mood. The team had been told to gather in the office to hear their fate.

"You all look like you're at a funeral," a familiar voice said. There was no mistaking the gravelly tones of Hank Voight. Halstead whipped around to look at him and jumped up from his desk, banging his knee on it in the process. It hurt like a bastard, but he did his best not to let on.

"You're looking well, boss," Adam Ruzek said. He was the first to offer a handshake to the returning Voight.

It was true, Halstead thought. Voight actually looked pretty much like he always did. The only thing that gave away the harsh reality of the situation he was dealing with was the defeated look in his eyes. That likely meant there was bad news to come.

Walking around his desk, Halstead was the third one to shake hands with Voight. "How are you feeling?" he asked compassionately.

"Pretty good, considering. How has it been here?" Voight wanted to know, focused on the job as ever.

"I'll let Al fill you in," Halstead said, stepping aside to allow Olinsky to come forward.

When the rest of the handshakes and greetings had been exchanged, Olinsky updated Voight on the team's current case, which looked close to a successful conclusion. That at least was good news.

"So, what's the news? We've heard rumours that aren't good," Olinsky said.

Voight sighed and out of habit walked to the top end of the room to stand in front of his office. That was where he always stood for briefings or to hand out assignments. Today he was doing neither of those things.

"I do have news," Voight announced. "Some of it's good, some of it's not so good, at least from my point of view. I have been evaluated following my stroke, and I've been told that the damage to my left arm is permanent. I have constant pins and needles in it, and sometimes numbness too. I also had an eye test, which showed I now have a sensitivity to bright lights. Bottom line? I'm now unable to drive a car, let alone work for Chicago PD. I have to take early retirement, effective immediately."

Halstead looked away for a moment. He hadn't expected the news to make him feel as emotional as it did, and he felt embarrassed to show it in front of his colleagues, although he imagined they felt the same way.

"It's not all bad news, though," Voight continued before people had a chance to dwell on what he had just told them. "I thought that the superintendent would see this as a golden opportunity to try and shut down Intelligence. Thankfully, I'm here to tell you that the fantastic work we've all done for this city is going to continue. I won't be here with you, but you can all bet your asses I'll still know exactly what's going on here, and I'll be expecting the same high standards of performance to continue. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Halstead said along with everyone else.

"So, Al's in charge permanently?" Kevin Atwater guessed.

"Actually, no," Voight said, looking apologetically at the man who had always been the most loyal to him. He clearly believed that Olinsky had deserved to get the job, yet it hadn't gone that way. "The higher ups insisted that they wanted someone younger."

"Who is it then? It's one of us, right?" Halstead asked, worried about an outsider coming in and taking charge.

"I guess you could say that," a female voice said from behind the group.

Halstead felt his heart skip at least one beat. He could barely believe it, but there was no mistaking the voice. He turned around and set eyes on Erin Lindsay for the first time in five years.


	2. Chapter 2

Jay Halstead sat at his desk in a state of disbelief and confusion. Of all the things he had thought might happen as a result of Voight's stroke, Erin Lindsay returning to Chicago to take command of Intelligence Unit hadn't been one of them.

He had made his peace with never seeing the woman he had loved again after she had bailed out to take a job in New York without so much as even a phone call to say goodbye. To make matters worse, her shock departure had happened on the day that Jay had planned to propose to her. Losing Erin like that had shown him what heartbreak felt like, and it had taken him a long time to recover from it. And now she was back, bringing all of those painful memories and emotions back with her.

"You okay?" Olinsky asked him discreetly. Their desks were next to each other, so they could talk quietly if needed. Al knew all about what had happened five years ago, so Jay figured he could well imagine what he was going through.

"I... I just can't believe she's here," Halstead said, shaking his head slowly.

After greetings and welcomes had been exchanged, Lindsay had gone back downstairs with Voight to see Sergeant Platt, who had apparently insisted on driving Voight home personally. Soon, Erin would return to take charge of the unit for the first time.

"Hi," was all Halstead had said as they had exchanged a very awkward handshake. A hug hadn't felt right, not after everything that happened, and after so much time. Besides, Sergeant Lindsay - newly promoted - was the boss. He felt like you didn't hug your boss in front of everyone on the team.

"I can't believe Voigt's gone," Olinsky muttered, reminding Halstead that he wasn't the only one who was suffering. Yes, he had the baggage with Lindsay, but everyone else had lost the man who had done so much for their careers, making them the fine detectives they now were.

"At least the stroke didn't kill him," Jay offered in consolation.

"No, but having to retire might."

That was a worrying point that Halstead hadn't thought about until then. Voight was all about the job. Intelligence was his life, and his pride and joy. It had all suddenly been taken away from him through no fault of his own. Even a man as tough as Voight would find that extremely hard to deal with.

Before Jay had much of a chance to think about it, it was pushed out of his mind by Lindsay walking back in. Christ, she was beautiful, he thought, watching her walk by his desk towards the far end of the room. Five years had gone by, but she didn't look like she had aged a day. In fact she looked even hotter than he had remembered. He didn't even want to be thinking that about her now, but he couldn't help it. He would never stop being attracted to her, he knew that for sure.

"Okay, I don't want to make a big speech," Lindsay said, standing in front of what was now going to be her office. "You all know me, and I know all of you. You also know that I didn't want to be standing here replacing Voight any more than you want me doing it. But, speaking professionally, Intelligence must continue running as close to normally as possible. The work we do is vital to the city of Chicago. That's the only reason, I believe, that they didn't shut us down. Instead, they called me and gave me the top job. I want to tell you all that I'm not going to come in and make sweeping changes. Jay, I know you're partnered up with Al. And Ruzek, you're partnered up with Atwater. I'm going to keep it that way."

She speaks differently now, Halstead found himself thinking. She was in charge, and she sounded like it. Whoever she had worked with in New York had taught her leadership.

"There is one area where I think we're behind the times. It's not a knock on Voight at all, but he has never been good with the technological side of police work. We should have an expert in that field on the team, and we're going to have one."

"Kim's pretty good," Ruzek said. His opinion was hardly unbiased, since Kim Burgess happened to be his fiancee and the mother of his young son.

"I've already got someone appointed the position," Lindsay said, letting him down gently. "She'll be joining us tomorrow. Other than that, and the obviously significant loss of Voight, I'd like to see business continue as usual. Crimes won't stop happening because of what's going on here, so we can't stop solving them. Has anyone got anything they want to say?"

"I'm with you one hundred per-cent," Atwater said. "Apart from anything else, there's no way I'd let Voight down by not continuing to give this unit everything I've got."

"What he said," Ruzek said.

"I think we all feel that way. And we know you're good police," Olinsky said.

"I'm sorry they didn't want to give you the job, Al," Lindsay said. "If it means anything, my first response was to turn it down and tell them to give it to you. They made it clear they weren't going to do that, for reasons that they chose not to share with me."

Olinsky waved her apology away as if it was unnecessary. "I didn't expect to get it. Politics."

Halstead realised that he was the only one who hadn't said anything at the same moment as Lindsay looked at him.

"Jay?" she asked simply.

"I'll give you everything I gave Voight," he promised. And I'll try to pretend you weren't the love of my life when you ran away, he didn't add.

"Good, thanks everyone," Lindsay said. If she felt nervous about taking charge of them, which Halstead assumed she had to, she wasn't showing it. "I know you're close to closing the current case we have. I'm going to go get some stuff from my car and start setting up in my office. Al, I'll get a full update from you later in the morning. For now, carry on."

"You heard the lady," Atwater said to Ruzek as he stood up. "We've got a witness to go and visit."

"Yeah, we should go," Ruzek agreed.

The two men headed for the stairs, and Lindsay went with them. Halstead was left at his desk, dwelling on his thoughts.

"You still love her, don't you?" Olinsky said.

"What makes you say that, Al?"

"I'm a detective," Olinsky said with what for him was a rare display of humour. "You need to let it go. Nothing good will come of getting hung up on that, not with so much water under the bridge."

"If only it was that simple," Halstead said, to himself as much as to his partner. He now realised that he had never moved on from Lindsay, not really. The feelings he had for her had been lying dormant in his mind, and had now shot right back to the surface. Right now, he didn't know what he was going to do about it in the short term, let alone the long term.

Before long, Lindsay walked back into the room with a large cardboard box of things that she had brought with her to put in her new office. She walked by Halstead and Olinsky without saying anything, leaving them to their work. Not that Jay was working. He didn't feel capable at the moment.

Maybe it's the shock of seeing her again getting to me, he wondered. Maybe he just needed time to process the fact that she was back in his life - his professional life at least. But time wasn't something he had.

"Jay, could you come in here for a minute?" Lindsay called out from her office.

"Wish me luck," Halstead muttered to Olinsky as he got up. Trudging towards the office, he tried to imagine what the conversation was going to be like. Awkward, he assumed.

When Jay reached the office he stood in the doorway for a moment. Standing on the other side of what was now her desk, Lindsay looked at him and their eyes met. There was a second where nothing was said, yet so much was communicated regardless. Her eyes told Jay that she was struggling with seeing him again too. At least that meant something. But if she cared about him why had she run away? Why had there never even been a phone call or a message?

"Close the door, Jay," she said. Once he had done so, she continued. "I know this isn't easy for you. Trust me, it's not easy for me, either. Believe me when I tell you I didn't want whatever it was we had to end the way it did?"

"So why did it?" Halstead asked, sounding more bitter than he had wanted to.

"I had to go to New York, Jay. That's all I can say. Coming back here and taking this job is very hard for me, but when Voight called me and said Al wasn't going to get the job, but I was one of the top candidates, I had to take it. I could tell he wanted me to take it. I think it would have finished him if I had turned him down. Plus I need to be nearer to him, in case the worst happens."

Halstead could understand what she was saying about Voight. Where there had been one stroke there could easily be another, and he was her foster father. Why wouldn't she want to be around in case he needed her? But her avoidance of giving any answers about why she had left annoyed him greatly. He wanted to get out of the office. In fact he wanted to get out of the building altogether.

"I just want us both to be clear that what happened in the past cannot effect what happens now. We've got to work together," she said.

"It won't be a problem," he said coolly. Despite what they were saying to each other, there was real tension in the room.

"Okay then. Back to work," she instructed.

Halstead opened the door and walked out of the office. He had felt like either punching a hole in the wall or walking over and kissing her. Somehow he had managed not to do either of those things. How long that was going to last, he really couldn't tell.


	3. Chapter 3

Case closed, Halstead thought as he watched the suspect he had just charged with murder being taken away to the cells. At least putting that guy behind bars was some good news. With the evidence they had, a conviction was pretty much guaranteed. It was a good start to the day for him and Olinsky, barely an hour into their shift.

With the job completed, it was time for them to head back to Intelligence Unit. The team usually only took one case at a time, so Lindsay would likely have found them something else to start working. Olinsky had told her the day before that there were only a few formalities between them and the end of the murder case.

"How are you feeling today?" Olinsky asked him as they walked through the station. "You looked pretty screwed up all day yesterday."

"I felt it," Halstead replied. "But I had a few drinks last night and it helped. One thing I'm not going to do is let Lindsay coming back send me off the rails and screw up my job. Both of us are just going to have to get on with it."

"There's a talk you're going to have to have with her at some point," Olinsky said. "The more you leave it, the worse it might get."

"Maybe you're right," Jay said. The truth was that he didn't want to talk to Lindsay again about what had happened between them. What was he supposed to say to her?

"I've realised I never stopped loving you." Of course he couldn't say that.

"I hate you for leaving the way you did." He couldn't say that, either. No, the only thing he could do was try to move on from her, again, this time while working with her. How hard could that possibly be, he thought wryly.

When and Al walked into the Intelligence Unit room, Halstead saw that Lindsay, Atwater and Ruzek were there, along with another woman who looked Hispanic. She was wearing her long black hair in a ponytail.

"Ah, here they are," Lindsay said, seeing them walk in. "Jay Halstead, Alvin Olinsky, meet Zelina Vega. We worked together on the Counter-terrorism Bureau in New York. She's our new tech expert."

She doesn't look much like a cop, Halstead thought, looking at her in her tight blue jeans and grey fleece jacket. She was barely five feet tall for start. But then she was being recruited for her brains, not brawn.

"Get used to calling me Z," Vega said in a friendly manner as she shook hands with both of them.

"Good to meet you," Halstead said.

"Welcome," Olinsky said.

"Z's going to take the office next to mine," Lindsay told the team unnecessarily. It was the only empty space in their part of the building. With the introductions made, she got down to business. "Good work closing that case. We won't be starting a new one today because Sergeant Platt needs us to help out Vice Squad."

As Halstead perched himself on the edge of his desk, Lindsay moved over to the briefing board, where there was a picture of an overweight, bald African American man.

"This is Tom King. He's been identified by a dealer as the man responsible for a batch of dirty H that has killed at least six people. Vice went to his place to him arrest him, but he must he either been tipped off or gotten spooked. He's in the wind. Vice have narrowed the search down to four places they want to raid, but they don't have the bodies to hit all four at once. We're going to do one for them. Questions?"

There were none. Intelligence Unit jobs didn't come simpler than this one. Halstead felt glad. Something of an easy day was just what he needed with all the stress of the pasty twenty-four hours.

"Okay then. Z will stay here and get herself set up in her office. The rest of us are going to vest up. Let's go."

* * *

The drive over to the address they had been given, that of Tom King's parents' house, had been awkward for Halstead. Lindsay had decided she would ride with him and Olinsky, and had taken the front passenger seat. With Al driving, Jay had been relegated to the back seat. It had left him wondering if she had done it to prove a point – that she wasn't going to act any differently around him compared to any other member of the team. From a professional point of view that was a good thing. From a personal one it felt like not so much of good thing because he was frustrated again.

Get your mind off her and concentrate on your damn job, he told himself. They were heading into a situation where a lack of focus could get someone killed. But Lindsay had her window open slightly and the cold draft was blowing the scent of her perfume into the back of the car. He actually remembered it. She still used the same one as she had all those years ago, he realised.

"This is the place," Olinsky said, slowing the car. It snapped Halstead out of his thoughts. Now he truly was focused on the job at hand.

"This is King's parents' house," Lindsay reminded them. "We'll breach if we have to, but I do not want innocent people getting hurt."

"Understood," Halstead said. Turning to look out of the rear window, he saw Atwater and Ruzek's car pull up behind them. It was time to move.

With well practiced urgency, the team bailed out of the vehicles and retrieved assault rifles from the trunks. It was one thing to intend not to shoot anyone. It might be another situation entirely if they had to breach the house and things went south.

"Atwater, Ruzek, around the back," Lindsay ordered. "Halstead, Olinsky, take the front. I'll cover you."

Moving quickly, Jay approached the front door with his partner. They had to have their guns at the ready, but at the same time they couldn't stick them in they parents' faces if they opened the door.

"In position," Ruzek's voice said through Lindsay radio. She gave a hand signal for Halstead to knock on the front door. The team at the back of the house would wait to be let in unless they heard a breach order.

Jay pounded his fist on the door. "Chicago PD!" he shouted.

There was no response from inside. At least with a team stationed at the rear there was no chance of King escaping if he was there.

Halstead was about to bang on the door again when it was opened by a little woman who looked to be in her sixties. "What's all this about?" she demanded.

"Chicago PD, ma'am. We're looking for Tom King. Is he here?" Olinsky asked.

"No, he's not," she replied assertively. Maybe a little too assertively Jay thought, suspecting she might be lying. "We're going to need to come in and see for ourselves. This a warrant," he said, producing it and handing it to her.

Without waiting for a response, Halstead and Olinsky walked into the house. Jay knew that Lindsay would get the woman out of the house until the search was complete. He proceeded through the ground floor, clearing it room by room. Apart from the lady, it was empty. The back door to the garden was located in the kitchen. He opened it to let Atwater in, while Ruzek remained outside in case King jumped out of a window to try and make an escape.

"Cover Al while he checks upstairs. I'm going to do the garage," Halstead said to Atwater, who went to do as asked without question. The unit were a well-oiled machine, and they performed as such.

Approaching the garage door, Halstead got his gun ready just in case. He opened the door and moved inside. The garage was dim, but not bad enough to prevent him seeing that no one was immediately visible. "Chicago PD! If anyone's in here, come out with your hands up!"

Silence. No sign of movement.

Jay looked around. There was a black SUV parked in the garage. Apart from that, there was some clutter in one corner - nothing special, and not enough to provide a hiding place, he decided. He walked around the SUV, then got down on the floor to look underneath it. There was nobody there.

Getting back up, he took a look into the SUV. There was no one in it. From inside the house, he had heard Olinsky and Atwater clearing the upstairs rooms. It seemed that the old woman was the only person home.

Leaving the garage, Halstead walked back through the house to the front door. He met Ruzek and Atwater coming down the stairs. "No sign of him?" he asked them.

"All clear," Olinsky reported.

Jay walked outside, where Lindsay and King's mother were standing on the driveway. "He's not here," he told the boss.

"I told you that before you busted into the house," the old woman complained.

"We're sorry to have troubled you, ma'am," Lindsay said.

"I should think so too," the woman said, trudging back towards the house.

"Ruzek, come back around. The house is clear," Lindsay said into her radio.

With seconds, Ruzek was walking along the side of the garage, coming back to join them. "Did someone check the garage?" he called out.

Things started to go in slow motion for Halstead in that moment. He heard the roar of a powerful engine, then saw the wooden garage door disintegrating. He was standing facing Lindsay, who had her back to the garage. She had no change of reaction to the big SUV that was speeding straight at them with Tom King behind the wheel. Jay, on the other hand, had that extra second to react. Grabbing her as roughly as he could, he launched them both out of the way, crashing down hard onto the near frozen lawn. How the SUV missed them, he didn't know.

When they hit the ground, Halstead ended up lying on Lindsay, who had landed on her back. Even in the dangerous moment, there was such intensity in their eyes as they looked at each other, noses a couple of inches apart. To him it felt like they stayed like it forever, but in reality it was only a matter of seconds before they started getting up.

While that had been happening, Olinsky and Ruzek had ran to one of the Intelligence Unit cars, and Atwater had rushed to the other. He stood there looking at them, waiting for them to get up and go with him. There was no time for that. Tom King was getting away.

"Go! Just go!" Lindsay gasped, waving them off. She sounded like the wind had been driven out of her when they had hit the ground.

Within seconds both cars were screaming off up the street after the SUV, sirens wailing.

Getting up, Halstead used his radio to call in what was happening, requesting backup and a helicopter. If King thought he was going to get away he had another thing coming.

With the call made, Jay offered his hand to Lindsay to help her back to her feet.

Still catching her breath, she accepted the assistance. He found himself regretting the fact that she was wearing leather gloves because he would have like to feel her hand in his. In the current circumstances that was hardly the kind of thing he should have been thinking about, he told himself.

"Thanks for saving my ass. He would have ran me down for sure if you hadn't done that," she said.

"I'm glad I could stop that happening."

Shortly, she had her breath back, and a question on her mind. "So, who fucked up?"


	4. Chapter 4

Prior to the end of the shift, Halstead found himself back at Intelligence Unit, where the team had been gathered by Lindsay for a debrief.

"The good news is Tom King was arrested after a relatively short pursuit," she began, although she was clearly a long way from happy. "The bad news is I had you, you and you come out of that house and tell me it was clear." She had pointed at Atwater, Olinsky and Halstead. "The next thing I know, I'm almost being run down by an SUV, and our suspect is escaping. Who wants to tell me how that happened?"

"He wasn't upstairs," Olinsky said with certainty.

"Definitely not," Atwater agreed. "I was standing inside the front door, near the bottom of the stairs, before he did the stuntman routine out of the garage. No one went up or down those stairs apart from me and Al."

Lindsay turned to Halstead, raising her eyebrows in expectation. It was obvious to him that the blame was coming his way.

"I swept the living room and the kitchen. They were both clear, so I let Kevin in and asked him to do the upstairs with Al, leaving me to do the garage. I went in there and checked it out. There was no one there. There was only the SUV in there, and a pile of junk in the corner that wasn't big enough for someone to hide in. I looked all around the SUV, under it, and into it. There was no one there," Jay insisted.

"Did you open the trunk?" Lindsay asked.

Fuck, Halstead thought. No, he hadn't even tried to open the trunk. How had he missed that? If the SUV had been unlocked, which he hadn't tested, King could have been hiding in the trunk. It wouldn't have been a comfortable fit, but he could have done it. Once the coast was clear he could have climbed out and got behind the wheel, ready to flee if necessary. Then Ruzek had come around from the rear garden, shouting something about checking the garage. It must have spooked King into the action he had taken.

"Well?" Lindsay demanded, even more annoyed by his lack of response.

"No, I didn't check the trunk," he admitted reluctantly, feeling embarrassed in front of his colleagues, his friends, his boss, and the woman he loved.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Lindsay shouted at him. To Halstead it seemed like an over the top reaction. "You could have gotten someone killed. You could have blown that whole Vice case, and for what? Because you can't be bothered to open a trunk?"

Halstead felt his blood pressure rising. Erin Lindsay shouting at him after everything she had put him through was too much for him to take. "It's nothing to do with not being bothered!" he shouted back at her. "I just didn't think about it, alright?"

"No, not alright!" Lindsay yelled back at him. They were now in each other's faces. "You'd better get your head in the game, because that kind of lackadaisical bullshit is not acceptable!"

Halstead felt sexual tension like he never had before, even with the rest of the team standing there watching them.

It was Zelina Vega who broke the spell a moment later. "Intelligence Unit, huh?" she said in her strong New York accent, walking off towards her office, casually chewing gum. Her implication was that she couldn't see much intelligence on show.

Lindsay took a step back from Halstead and addressed the group. "Ruzek, Olinsky, Atwater, you can go home. Halstead, I think you'd better join me in my office."

Preparing himself for round two, Jay trudged over to the office. He was determined not to be yelled at like that, whether he had a mistake or not. To his surprise, Olinsky walked in just after Lindsay, stopping her from shutting the door.

"Can I help you?" she asked him.

Olinsky closed the door, looking at each of them in turn. "Look, I know you're the boss now, Lindsay, and Halstead, we're partners. But I'm going to say something to you both. I'm going to say it only once, and you're both going to listen. I know what's going on between you as well as you do. It's obvious, and it's effecting your work. So, you're going to go out tonight, you're going to have a couple of drinks, and you're going to talk it out, properly. And when you show up here tomorrow, no matter what the outcome, you're going to show up ready to work like professionals, not like love shy teenagers at a prom."

Both of them stood there looking at him. With nothing to add, he said goodnight and left, leaving the door open. Halstead felt well and truly put in his place, and he could see that Lindsay felt the same way. It wasn't often that Olinsky spoke like that to people he worked with. When he did, he was invariably listened to.

"I think we should do what he said," Jay said.

"Fine. You're buying," Erin said stubbornly.

* * *

Helping Vice out with their case had actually meant a rare chance to finish a shift on time, which was why Halstead and Lindsay found themselves in a bar that wasn't particularly busy as yet. They had been able to claim a booth, giving them at least a bit of privacy.

"Thanks," Lindsay said when Halstead came back to the booth and put a cocktail in front of her. "So, what are we supposed to talk about?"

There had been attitude in her question, and Jay had no intention of being the bigger person. As far as he was concerned he was the one who had a right to be pissed off. "I don't know. Maybe we should start with why you vanished to New York without even a phone call? In fact it's worse than that. I called you so many times that day. You didn't even have to make a call, all you had to do was answer one. So, yeah, let's start there."

Erin looked away, staring vacantly across the bar. For a moment, Jay wondered if he had gone in too hard and she was going to walk out, but she didn't. When she looked back at him, she looked upset.

"I had to go, Jay. I didn't want to, believe me. It was the only choice I had."

"Why?" he asked simply. Seeing her getting emotional hurt him. His instinct was to be there for her, no matter how angry he was at what had happened.

"I don't want to talk about it," Lindsay mumbled, looking down at her cocktail to avoid keeping eye contact with him.

"That's why we're here," he said with all the gentleness he could summon in spite of his mood. "We're not Sergeant Lindsay and Detective Halstead here, we're Erin and Jay. And I need to know why you left. I need to know why I had to hurt so much for so long."

She looked back up at him. "Jay, we weren't even together. It was a mess."

To hell with it, I'm just going to tell her the truth, he decided. "I was going to propose to you. On the day you left, I had a ring. If you had come to meet me like we arranged, I would have proposed. But instead you disappeared, and I never heard from you again."

"Jesus Christ," she sighed, shocked by the revelation. "I had no idea, no idea at all, that you were thinking of proposing to me."

"Would it have changed anything if you had known?" Jay asked. Right there, in that moment, the answer to that question meant the most to him.

"I don't know," she said quietly after a moment of reflection. "I had to take the job in New York. I was pretty much forced into it."

"How, though?" Jay asked, taking a sip from his beer. "Tell me about it. You're making it sound like someone had something on you."

"They did. It was all because of Bunny. I mean, when didn't she ruin my life? She was going to go down on drug charges and possibly more. Voight brokered a deal with the FBI. In exchange for dropping all charges against her and completely removing her from the case, I had to go join the Counter-terrorism Bureau. So, like I said, I had no choice. I did what I did to keep her out of jail."

"Holy shit," Jay muttered. "You had to give up your job, your home, Voight, all because of Bunny."

Lindsay took a few moments to drink some of her cocktail. It was as if she wasn't quite sure what to say next. "And you, Jay. I had to give you up, too. I had no idea how things might have gone for us if I stayed in Chicago. That's why I never took your calls. I had to stay there no matter what. Talking to you might have made me want to come back, and I couldn't do that."

Halstead could hardly believe it. All of the hurt he had gone through, all of the upheaval Lindsay had gone through, was all because of Bunny fucking Fletcher. "Unbelievable that one woman can do so much damage to people's lives. I hope she appreciated what you did?"

Erin took another big hit from her cocktail. "I have no idea. I never spoke to her again before she died. An OD, apparently, a couple of years ago."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Jay said.

"Don't be. I'm not," she said simply. "Look, Jay, I'm sorry you got hurt in all of this. I regret that, trust me. But we are where we are now. That all happened five years ago. I'm back here, in charge of Intelligence. I want us to be able to work together."

"I want more than that," Jay said. He had to be honest with her about that, and with himself. "I thought I had moved on, Erin. But when you walked into Intelligence yesterday all of the feelings I have for you came right back to the surface. What I need to know is how you feel?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly, shaking her head. "I came back because Voight needed me to take this job. I figured I owed it to him after everything he did for me. When I thought about you, I told myself not to get into this situation, that the past should be the past. But I felt differently as soon as I saw you. You described it well: the feelings came right back to the surface. But would it be a good thing for us to be involved with each other again? I really don't know."

Halstead wanted them to at least make a go of it, to see if it worked out. However, he knew that her caution made sense. A Sergeant dating a member of the team she was in charge of had potential mess written all over it. "If there's a chance for us, I want us to take it," he said.

The wait for a response as she sipped her cocktail, looking in two minds, seemed to last forever. But then she reached across the table and put her hand on his. "If we're going to take it, we have to take it slowly and see what happens. There's no guarantee it'll work out."

Suddenly, just like that, Jay Halstead was in a place he hadn't been in for years. He was on cloud nine. "There's no guarantee, that's true. But I'll give it everything I've got. I don't want to lose you again, Erin. For me, it's always been you."

Erin smiled, unsure as to what to say. In the end she just squeezed his hand. The gesture spoke louder than words. Against all odds, they had found their way back to each other.


	5. Chapter 5

Jay Halstead felt great when he arrived for work. How quickly life could send you from one end of the emotional scale to the other, he thought. Somehow, incredibly, he now found himself with another shot at a relationship with Erin Lindsay.

The previous night, after having a heart to heart that had started out angrily, only to quickly become emotional, they had agreed to make a slow start towards seeing if they could make a relationship work. A lot of time had passed since the previous failures, which Jay had to admit were his fault, so he felt confident that this time would be better.

Erin had meant it when she had said slowly, he had learned. After a couple of drinks, she had made her excuses to head home, parting ways in the parking lot with nothing more than a peck on the cheek. But Jay was fine with that, thinking that she was probably right about taking the slow approach. The last thing they needed was to jump right in at the deep end and have everything blow up in a couple of week's time.

"Morning," Halstead said when he walked into Intelligence Unit. He was in bright and early, but not early enough to be the first to arrive. Adam Ruzek was already at his desk and working.

"Morning," Ruzek said, leaning back in his chair and looking at Halstead. "What happened with you and Lindsay after we left last night?"

Halstead decided not to tell the truth. It wasn't his colleague's business to know what was happening between he and Lindsay personally. In any case, Ruzek was thinking in terms of work, since the last he knew Jay had been getting the riot act for his slip up with Tom King.

"We calmed down, and we talked about what happened. I know I fucked up by not checking that SUV properly, and I shouldn't have gone off at her the way I did when she called me out on it. I'm sorry you guy had to see that. It won't happen again."

"You don't have to apologise to me, man," Ruzek said. "It's been a rough patch for all of us, especially for you with Lindsay coming back. Are you doing okay? That's the main thing."

"I'm good. Really," Halstead assured him.

"Okay. I'm glad to hear it. Listen, before anyone else comes in, I want to ask you something."

"Go for it," Jay said.

"I had an agreement with Voight that Kim would get her place back in Intelligence after she did a couple of months in uniform to sharpen herself up after her maternity leave. The couple of months is almost up. Do you think Lindsay will stick to what Voight agreed? It would kill Kim if she lost her place here for good. It was her biggest concern when we had Alex."

"I'd like to think she would stick to what Voight agreed," Jay said. "We all know Kim's more than good enough for this unit. It's been a loss not having her she left to have Alex. How is the little guy by the way?"

"He's doing great with his sleeping now," Ruzek said proudly. "Do you think I should speak to Lindsay when she gets here? What kind of mood do you think she'll be in? I'll wait if it's going to be anything like last night. I don't want my head taking off."

Halstead gave a single laugh. He knew that Lindsay was going to show up in a good mood, but he wasn't going to say that so as not to have to explain himself. "Like I said, we talked over what happened. There's no reason for her to be pissed off. And anyway, your question is reasonable. I say ask her when she gets in."

"Alright, I will," Ruzek said, looking thankful for the advice.

Moments later, Olinsky was the next one to arrive. "Morning," he said in his usual quiet manner. Greetings came his way as he took his seat at his desk. He looked at Halstead and asked, "How was your night?"

It wasn't hard for Jay to figure out that the question actually meant, 'Did you handle your shit with Lindsay?'

"It was okay," Jay said. "I talked to Lindsay and we both calmed down. I know I screwed up yesterday. It won't happen again." With his eyes, he urged his partner to trust him on it, and he saw that Olinsky was prepared to do so, as he should. There could be no partnership without trust.

Zelina Vega was next to walk in. "Hey, guys," she said cheerfully. "Jesus Christ it's cold out there. What's the morning coffee routine in this place?"

"Whoever mentions it first has to put the machine on," Ruzek said, making it up on the spot and causing Halstead to laugh.

"Oh yeah?" Vega said sceptically, casually chewing her gum. "Why don't we flip a coin and we'll see who has to put the machine on?"

Ruzek laughed. "Why would I do that when you've already got to put it on?"

"It's always good to find out early in which members of the team have no balls," Vega said.

Halstead and even Olinsky laughed at that. The woman had sass, which would come in useful as a part of the Intelligence team.

"You don't think I have balls?" Ruzek said, rising to the bait, but in a humorous way. "Alright, shorty, I'll flip a coin with you. Let's go fifty bucks and the coffee machine."

Vega looked at Halstead and raised an eyebrow. "I know he didn't just call me shorty."

"Oh, he called you shorty," Jay took delight in saying.

Within moments are four of them were involved in a playful shouting match. Predictably, the boss chose that moment to show up.

"Alright, that's enough," Lindsay called out in a fairly strict tone as she strode into the room, silencing them pretty quickly. She had a case folder under her arm, a business-like expression on her face, and Kevin Atwater not far behind her. He went over to his desk, while Lindsay went to the whiteboard at the far end of the room.

Jay noticed that she didn't even look at him on her way past. It immediately made him feel insecure. He would have expected at least a smile or a good morning. Part of him began to wonder if she'd had second thoughts about their talk the night before. Had she decided that being with a member of her team was a bad idea after all?

Get a grip, he told himself, not for the first time. It had been a while since he had been in a bad place mentally. Voight's stroke and Erin's shock return had messed him up pretty good. Things would go back to normal soon now that the shocks were behind him, or at least he hoped they would.

"This is Dana Brooke," Lindsay said, fixing a photograph of a bleached blonde to the board. She was quite pretty, Jay thought, if Botox and lip fillers were your thing. "Her body was pulled out of the Chicago river last night, up near the Memorial Park. Her body was well decomposed after a few days in the water, but it looks like she was strangled. She was thirty years old, a hooker, well known to uniform."

"Sounds like a homicide beef," Vega said, continuing to chew her gum. She had perched herself on the edge of Halstead's desk.

"I'd agree, if she wasn't the second strangled hooker they've fished out within a week," Lindsay said. Reaching into the folder, she took out another photo and fixed it to the board. It showed another bleached blonde with Botox and lip fillers. Similar age and appearance to the first one, Halstead thought. If the same person had killed both women, it was possible that they had a preference for victims who looked like them. Or their looks could be a coincidence, of course.

"Carmella Van Dale," Lindsay said. "Also a hooker, and a heroin addict. Also strangled. Body found in the river five days ago. She hadn't been in the river for as long as Brooke, but it was long enough to destroy any DNA evidence. Jay, Al, I want you to..." She stopped talking as Sergeant Platt walked in.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we've got another one," Platt announced.

"In the river?" Lindsay asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah, just been found. Near Memorial Park again," Platt said.

"Halstead, Olinsky, get over there and work the scene. Get me a name of the victim if you can," Lindsay ordered. "Atwater, Ruzek, I want you to show Z where the red light districts are on a map so that she can start pulling together CCTV. Assuming this new victim was picked up last night, we might get something if we locate where she was working. When you've done those jobs, I want all of you to reach out to any CIs you've got who work the streets. Find people who knew Dana Brooke, find people who knew Carmella Van Dale, and find people who knew this morning's victim. Find out if they share any regular clients. And make sure the word gets spread that there's someone killing prostitutes. Ideally, we want them off the streets until we catch the killer. Questions?"

There were none, so the team got up to attend to the tasks they had been given. Halstead did it feeling quite awkward. Even now that they were on good terms, the way she addressed him like any other member of the team didn't sit right with him. He didn't expect preferential treatment of course, but she spoke to him as if she didn't even know him outside of work, even referring to him as Halstead. Was calling him Jay rely too much to expect?

"At least three women killed in the space of a week. This guy is going for it," Olinsky commented on their way out of the station.

"Yeah," Jay muttered vaguely. He realised himself as he spoke how distant he sounded, and he knew Al would pick up on it. The guy never missed a thing.

Focus on the job, not on Erin, he told himself. Focus on the job, not on Erin.

"Halstead, Olinsky, get over there and work the scene," he heard her say in his mind.

Yes, boss, he thought, trying to fight off his annoyance.


	6. Chapter 6

"I don't like cases like this," Olinsky said as he and Halstead walked across Memorial Park towards the crime scene, where several uniformed officers were present, along with a coroner's van.

The weather was very cold, but there was no snow on the ground. It made for a bleak, windswept scene that caused Jay to shiver as he zipped up his coat. "I hear you," he replied.

"Women who have nothing but their bodies to trade, often addicted to all kinds of drugs, and when someone kills them, people shrug their shoulders and say, 'Well, she was a hooker.' It's wrong."

"It is wrong," Jay agreed. "But we won't be shrugging our shoulders. We'll catch whoever's killing these girls and we'll put him away for life."

Olinsky reverted to type as a man of few words, so nothing more was said until they reached the crime scene. There was a female officer standing at the cordon. Halstead hadn't seen her before. She looked to be about thirty, with shoulder length blonde hair coming out from underneath a black beanie hat. She had her uniform coat zipped all the way up, and was rubbing her leather gloved hands together for warmth. She looked absolutely freezing. She also had lip fillers, he saw as they walked up to her, thinking of the first indications regarding their killer's possible preferences.

"Halstead, Olinsky, Intelligence Unit," Jay said, showing her his badge. "What have we got, Officer..."

"Rose," she filled in for him.

"Amanda Rose? I've heard your name," Olinsky said, to himself as much as to her.

"Is that good or bad?" Rose asked with a hint of nervousness.

No answer was forthcoming from Al, so Jay got back on track. "What have we got, Rose?"

"Looks like another victim of the strangler, sir. A blonde woman found dead washed up on the bank of the river. Looks like she was only killed last night. I was first on the scene. We've been ordered to keep bodies in the park tonight, so if he comes back with another body we might catch him."

"Anything else you can tell us?" Halstead asked.

"Not really, sir. Blonde hooker strangled and dumped in the river. It fits the pattern."

"It sure sounds like it. We'll take a look."

Officer Rose lifted up the crime scene tape, making it a little easier for the two detectives to duck under it. They approached the small group of uniforms, as yet unable to see the coroner or the body. That soon changed.

As they drew near, a couple of the uniforms noticed them and moved aside. Halstead saw the coroner crouched beside the body of a slender woman wearing a cheap silver dress that was typical fare for a hooker. She looked older than the other two victims, maybe early forties, but she wasn't bad looking at all. There was obvious bruising around the throat, making the first question for the coroner a bit redundant.

"Strangled?" Halstead asked.

The coroner looked up and recognised him from previous cases. "Yes, like the other two. This is our guy alright. Looks like he strangles them with his bare hands. This one has only been in the water for a few hours, so we might be able to get some DNA evidence this time."

"Any ID on her?" Olinsky asked.

"No. But if she is a hooker there's a good chance we'll have her DNA on file. I'll be able to let you know by the end of the day. Hopefully we'll get something on the killer, too."

While that exchange happened, Halstead had crouched down beside the body. There were no signs that the victim had been tied up. The bruising around her throat was the only indication that she had been attacked. It was horrifying to think what those final moments must have been like for her.

"Strangulation is a very personal way to kill someone, especially with your bare hands," he said. "This guy likes looking into their eyes while he watches them die. He likes literally squeezing the life out of them. We're dealing with one sick son of a bitch here."

* * *

Later, when Halstead and Olinsky were almost ready to leave the crime scene, Jay's phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and saw Ruzek's name on the screen.

"How's it going?" Halstead said, answering the call with the expectation of some kind of update about the case.

"Not good," Ruzek said. He sounded pissed off.

"What's going on?" Halstead asked, ducking under the cordon and walking away from the crime scene for privacy.

"I spoke to Lindsay about Kim," Ruzek said. "She said she can't make any guarantees about bringing her back to Intelligence. Apparently she wants to 'make her own mark on the team' as she put it." He had delivered the quotation in a mocking tone.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She told me Voight had put together some kind of list of promising officers and detectives who he was looking into, like some kind of scouting project. He was going to take one of them if Kim decided not to come back from her maternity leave."

"But she did come back," Halstead said.

"Exactly. But it seems Lindsay wants to take one of those people instead anyway. She didn't give me a final decision, but it seemed to me that her mind was pretty much made up. I guess she's got this idea in her head that she needs her own appointments on the team to make it hers or something? It's fucking stupid, and I'm really angry. If Kim doesn't get this job back, she's going to be heartbroken. And besides that, she deserves it. She's as good as either of us at this job."

"You don't have to convince me of that," Halstead said, feeling surprised and confused by what he was hearing. Lindsay's decision made no sense to him. Burgess was a perfectly capable member of Intelligence, and she and Lindsay had gotten on well before Erin had left for New York. Plus there was the obvious complication of pissing Ruzek off when there was no need to do so.

"I thought it was going to be good having Lindsay back. Now I'm not so sure," Ruzek said.

Halstead could see why his friend felt the way he did. He was protective of his wife, as he should be. Jay wanted to help, but he couldn't hint at using his personal connection with Erin to put a word in for Kim because he wanted that relationship kept quiet. "I agree with you about Kim. If I get a chance to give my opinion, I'll make that clear," he promised.

"Thanks, man. I know there's not much you can do, I'm just venting. Lindsay's going to get Kim in the office when she's made a decision. I think I'll have to tell her tonight what's happened, so I can at least try and soften the blow a bit."

"I hope it goes her way," Halstead said, and he meant it.

* * *

After a busy day working the strangler case, Halstead was glad when the time came to go home, or rather to go to a bar. He felt like he needed a drink, and he wanted to spend time with Erin if she was up for going with him. The tricky thing was getting out of the mindset of spending a shift working for Sargent Lindsay and into the mindset of wanting to go to a bar with Erin Lindsay.

"See you tomorrow," Ruzek said to Halstead as he walked past his desk on the way out.

"Yeah. Say hi to Kim and Alex for me, okay?" To Jay it felt weak and inadequate, but it was at least some indication that he cared about the situation that Kim was about to discover she was in.

"Will do," Ruzek said, appreciating the gesture for what it was.

When Ruzek had left, Jay took another moment to get out of work mode before getting up and going to Erin's office, where she was working on the developing case.

Torrie Wilson was the name of the third victim, a forty-five year old hooker who Atwater had remembered arresting during his time in uniform. A troubling discovery had been that Ms Wilson's body hadn't shown any signs of sexual activity on the night she died, which meant that she had gotten unlucky in having the murderer as her first client. It also showed that the killer didn't seem to have an interest in sex, he simply wanted to kill hookers. Or to kill women. Or to kill people. Whether the hooker aspect mattered to him or whether it simply provided easy victims wasn't established yet.

"Hey," Erin said pleasantly, looking up from her work when Jay appeared in the doorway. She sounded ready to get out of work mode.

"Hey," he smiled. "I was thinking we could go somewhere and get a drink? I could use one after today."

"Sure, that sounds nice," Erin said, massaging the bridge of her nose in a gesture that hinted at stress.

"Long day? Not a nice case for your first one in charge."

"The case isn't getting to me. We've all seen murder victims before. There's just so much to do when you take on a job like this. Voight warned me, but I still didn't realise."

"Like firing Kim Burgess?" Jay asked, immediately regretting it, not least because it had come out sounding much more hostile than he had intended.

"Excuse me?" Erin exclaimed, her voice getting a little raspier, the way it always did when she started to get fired up. Jay had always liked it, unless the firing up was directed at him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it to come out like that," he backpedalled. "Ruze called me earlier and told me about the conversation he had with you. He doesn't know about last night, so he was just venting to a friend. But I felt like I had to say something because this is really harsh on Kim. She deserves to be here."

"Well, thanks for your input, Jay, but the decision has been made. I was letting Ruzek down gently by saying I'm still considering it, so that had better stay between us. Not that I need to, but I'll explain to you why I've decided not to bring her back, and trust me when I say it's nothing against Kim personally. The thing is she's a mother now, and whether she likes it or not that gives me a problem with Kim, because know her character. Intelligence Unit is for the best of the best, the sharpest of the sharp. In the situations we find ourselves in there can be no moment of hesitation from a mother who doesn't want to be killed and leave her son without a mother. I can see that happening with her. I can't risk that moment of hesitation getting her or any other member of this unit killed. Plus I want to make to make my own mark on the unit. Bringing in Z and someone else will do that. I know Al had been scouting a few names for Voight, so I'll be speaking to him tomorrow and going over the list in detail. Now, are we going to talk shop, or are we going for that drink?"

"For the drink," Jay said. It troubled him that it felt like he was about to go to a bar with his boss, not his girlfriend. And it troubled him even more that he didn't agree with the decisions she was making. He found himself wondering if Sergeant Lindsay was the right person to be running Intelligence. If someone asked him right then and there, his answer would have been no.


	7. Chapter 7

Unlike the night before, Jay and Erin found themselves in a busy bar. So busy, in fact, that it was standing room only. After they had found themselves a spot over on the left side of the room, Erin had fought her way through to the bar to get their first round in.

Standing there watching her, Jay found himself wondering if she was the same Erin as before. The answer, he had to admit, seemed like it was no. The five years had changed her. New York had changed her. The FBI had changed her. But then five more years working for Hank Voight had probably changed him too, he imagined.

Erin spoke differently now, especially at work. She was firmer, more authoritative, and there seemed to little humour in her. It was a shame. Her dry humour was something he had always liked. Maybe it was still there, but the stress of her return and her new job was hiding it? He wanted to find out. He wanted to find out a lot of things. In truth, he didn't how much of the Erin he knew and loved still remained. Her looks sure did. Holy shit she was beautiful. In a way, it had faded a little from his memory just how it made him feel when he looked into her eyes. He couldn't even have described it himself if he had been asked to. All he knew was that he wanted to do it more and more. He wanted to kiss her, to taste her lips against his...

A guy who was standing neat to Jay stepped backwards and bumped into him, snapping him out of the moment. Or the day dream. Or the fantasy. Whatever it had been, it was gone now.

"Sorry, man," the clumsy idiot said to him.

Jay nodded to him, deciding not show his annoyance.

A few minutes later, Erin returned with two bottles of beer. "Don't you hate it when a bartender has no manners?" she said, handing one to him.

"Yes. I make sure to be rude back to them if they're like that," Jay said. It made Erin laugh. It was the first time he had seen her do that since her return from New York. Her entire face lit up when she laughed. It was a truly gorgeous sight.

An awkward silence settled on them as they both realised that after so long they didn't really know how to start a conversation with each other about something other than work or Erin's leaving for New York.

"So, what do you do with yourself now when you're not working?" she ventured.

"Not much if I'm honest, which sounds pretty embarrassing. I threw myself into the job a lot these past few years. Apart from that the only social things I do are going out for drinks with the rest of the team, and sometime I'll watch a game with Kev and/or Ruze and Kim."

Jay knew she would know he was talking about baseball. It was the only sport he followed, and she liked it too.

"The Cubs killed it last season," Erin smiled. "I've kept up with their results as much as possible. Much like you, I've been largely job focused."

And there they were, gravitating back to talking about work again. At least they were talking, and the conversation was a happy one. Jay decided to roll with it. The personal connection would re-establish itself with time. "You liked the job then?" he asked. "I think I'd hate a job I was forced to take and stick with. Knowing you, I'd certainly expect you to hate it."

Erin took a hit from her beer. "Oh, trust me I hated it to begin with. I'd say for about a year I resented every day I had to work with that unit. It didn't help that the agent in charge was a real asshole. He treated the team, especially me, like dirt. Luckily he was reassigned maybe ten months after I got there, and he was replaced by a female agent called Stephanie McMahon. That was when it turned around for me. We worked well together, got along okay, and most importantly she liked to teach people. There's no way I'd be a Sergeant right now if it wasn't for her. Voight taught me a lot about detective work, but he never taught me leadership."

"I'm glad you had someone good to mentor you," Jay smiled after drinking some beer, thinking better of saying that so far he didn't like the leadership that he had seen.

"I know you find it awkward having me as your boss, Jay. After today I know Ruzek doesn't like it either. But as far as you and I are concerned we've got to separate work from our personal lives if this is going to work between us. I meant it when I said I want us to give it a shot. Let's do it the right way and actually give it a chance to work, okay?"

She's right, Jay thought. If he couldn't get that divide figured out in his head, their latest attempt at a relationship was going to go the way of the previous attempts. He had to get his head right. This was Erin, the woman he loved, the woman he had pined for after she had left. She was back now, and he had to make sure not to screw things up.

So, what was the best way to start? A date, he thought. He should take her on a date. But what kind of date? His eyes settled on a poster over on the opposite side of the bar. They were advertising cheap drinks for the upcoming opening day of the baseball season, now only a few days away. The Cubs were playing at home, too. What better than an opening day game for a date?

"The Cubs game. I could buy us two tickets," he said.

"Oh, uh, okay," Erin said, surprised. "As long as we're not working, that sounds good."

"At least you still like baseball. I thought you might have come back saying you play golf now or something," Jay said with a laugh.

"I've never picked up a golf club in my life," Erin said with a laugh of her own. "The only new thing I picked up was scuba diving. I'm certified."

"Oh! Well, that's different. I've never tried it."

"Yeah, I did a course down in Florida when I was on vacation with... with a guy I was dating," Erin said, faltering as she realised the road she had gone down without thinking about it.

She dated someone, Jay thought. There was no reason she shouldn't have, he supposed. After all, they hadn't been together because she had run away before he'd had the chance to propose. But the thought of her smiling and laughing with someone else, kissing someone else, maybe loving someone else, made him feel angry inside.

"How long did you date him for?" he asked, feeling himself tensing up in preparation for the answer.

"About a year. It ended maybe eighteen months ago. You don't have to worry, Jay, he's totally out of the picture. We ended it on fairly good terms."

"Okay," was all he could manage to say. Someone had dated Erin for a whole year. That was time they could have spent together, if only she had stayed.

"What about you? You must have dated people?" she asked before downing some more beer.

"No," he said, shaking his head. It actually sounded pretty pathetic, he realised. "There have been a couple of one night stands, but I've not dated anyone." I wanted you, he didn't add.

Erin finished off her beer and held the bottle out to him. "Well, you're dating someone now, so you'd better get up to the bar."

"Yes, boss," Jay said with a smile, and he got one in return. Her eyes gleamed as she smiled, and he knew that would likely be the moment he would remember when the evening came to an end, since a kiss at the end of it was unlikely.

They were making progress, slowly, as she had requested, but it was progress nonetheless.

* * *

The visit to the bar with Erin hadn't lasted long. Two beers for her, and a beer and a fruit juice drink for Jay, who had been driving, was all they'd had before she had wanted to take off.

Keep taking it slow. Be thankful that she's back and you're working on it, he had told himself.

Erin was living in a small house that belonged to someone Voight knew, Jay had learned when he dropped her off there.

"It's not much, but it'll do until I find myself a place," she had said. And with a peck on the cheek, she had gotten out of his car.

"Goodnight, Erin," he had said as she stood with the door open, looking back into the car.

"Goodnight, Jay. Drive safe."

With that, she had banged the door shut and walked off towards her front door. Jay had watched her go, finding her so sexy in her tight black pants maroon leather jacket. He had always had a thing for leather, and Erin wore it often. How he would have loved to go inside with her, to kiss her, to hold her, to...

A car horn made him jump. He was parked in the road and someone had come up behind him. How did he keep getting interrupted like that when he was thinking about Erin? He didn't know, but it was seriously annoying.

With a wave to Erin, which she returned, he pulled away. The question on his mind was what to do next. He didn't feel like he was done for the night. Maybe he could get take out food from somewhere, he thought. Then an idea came to him. He could get take out for three and go over to see Ruze and Kim. God knew they'd had a rough day, assuming Adam had given her the bad news. Some company might be just what they needed.

* * *

Arriving at Adam and Kim's house with a big bag of Chinese food, Jay wondered what state he was going to find them in. He hoped that if Kim had been given the news, she wasn't as devastated as Ruze had said she would be. Thinking about his friend losing her dream job for nothing more than having a kid got Jay feeling angry again about Lindsay's decision once more. In his opinion it was heartless, and it was wrong.

It was Adam who opened the door. "Oh, hey," he said, looking happy to see a friendly face.

"I brought Chinese," Jay said, brandishing the plastic bag.

"Oh nice, thanks," Adam said, allowing him in and closing the door. "We haven't eaten yet. I was going to start dinner soon."

"How's Kim?" Jay asked. His question obviously meant, 'Have you told her yet?'

"About as upset as I thought she would be. She's just getting Alex down to sleep."

As he said it, Kim's footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. "Who was it?" she called out in a muted tone, so as to avoid waking their young son.

"It's Jay. He's brought Chinese food."

Kim came around the corner, looking tearful and touched by the fact that he had come over to see her.

"Hey, Kim. I'm really sorry," was all Jay could say to her. He wished he could say or do more.

"Oh, Jay," she gasped, walking into his arms for a hug. "How could she do this to me? Erin of all people? I can't believe it."

"I know. Neither can I," Jay assured her. Looking at Adam, he saw pain in his friend's eyes. His fiancee was hurting and there was nothing he could do to help her.

"She was my friend and she knows I'm good at what I do. The Erin I knew would never have done this. She's obviously changed, Jay," Kim said.

"I know," Jay said sympathetically as they parted. "Trust me when I say no one on the team wanted this to happen. None of us like the start she's made to running the team."

Suddenly, he realised the position he was potentially putting himself in. If Adam and Kim found out he was dating Erin they would possibly feel betrayed by it, since they were now in the anti-Lindsay camp. Whereas if Erin found out he was talking about her management of the unit like that behind her back, she would definitely be pissed off with him. He was going to have to start being careful in maintaining his position on the dividing line he was straddling in case it all blew up in his face.


	8. Chapter 8

Jay Halstead was about to start fixing his breakfast when his phone rang, interrupting the Youtube video that he had been listening to. Looking at the screen in annoyance, he was surprised by the name he saw on the screen: Antonio Dawson.

It had been a while since Halstead had spoken to Dawson, a former colleague in Intelligence, and even longer since he had seen him. He knew that Olinsky had spoken to him and told him about Voight's health situation, so Jay hadn't bothered to reach out. Although they didn't talk often, they were good friends who had each other's backs when needed. Jay realised that calling Antonio when Erin had returned might have been a good idea. Talking to someone not directly involved might have helped to stop his mind constantly going a mile a minute, both with his reignited love for her, and with his critical thoughts regarding her management of the unit.

Halstead answered the call, walking through to his living room. The breakfast could wait a few minutes. "Antonio. How's it going?"

"Pretty good, Jay. Just closed a case on a guy who killed two kids, so that felt good. Shame we don't have the death penalty."

"I hear you," Halstead said as he sat down on his couch. In his mind there was a special place in hell for people who killed children. "At least you got the bastard. That had to feel good."

"Oh yes. I put the bracelets on him myself. So, I hear Erin got Voight's job. I thought I should call and see how you are."

"I'm fine," Halstead lied on instinct.

"Jay, this is me you're talking to," Dawson said pointedly. "I know it messed you up when she left. I'm going to guess having her suddenly come back again messed with your head too."

Be honest with the man, Jay told himself. Maybe Antonio could offer some kind of advice to help him figure out a way to deal with the bizarre contrast of emotions that he was feeling between Erin Lindsay and Sergeant Lindsay.

"Honestly, I am in a bit of a weird place," he admitted. "Erin coming back was the last thing I expected. It brought everything back from when she left. But I plucked up the courage to ask her out for a drink, and she agreed. We talked, she told me what happened when she left from her point of view, I told her my story, and in the end we finished up agreeing to try giving a relationship another shot."

"Woah," Dawson said in surprise. "Well, that's good news. I'm happy for you both, and I hope it works out this time."

"Thanks, Antonio. We've agreed to take things slowly and see what happens. We had a couple of drinks last night, and it was nice. I'm hopeful we won't screw it up this time."

"Sounds good. But if that's the case, what's the weird place you're in?"

Halstead considered bailing out on the conversation and dismissing what he had previously said. But no. It was a better idea to talk to someone. "Honestly? I think some of her decision making has been awful since she took charge of the unit. The main problem being that she's decided Burgess won't be returning. Someone new is going to be joining us instead. Kim's devastated, as you can imagine. It's really not..."

"Jay, what are you doing?" Dawson cut in.

"What do you mean?"

Dawson sighed. "Think about it for a minute. Apart from Al, you're the most senior member of that team. You should be doing whatever you can to make the job easier for Lindsay, not questioning what she's doing."

"But I don't agree with what she's doing, Antonio!" Jay exclaimed, getting up to pace around the living room. "And anyway, that's a bit much coming from you. How many times did you and Voight go at it over things he did that you didn't agree with?"

"Plenty of times. But the fact that I did it doesn't mean it was the right thing to do. Let's put it a different way: If it was Voight who had decided not to bring Burgess back would you have been as angry about it?"

"Yes, and I would have spoken up for her. But I'd have trusted his judgement," Halstead said, thinking aloud.

"Why?" Antonio pushed.

"Because he was the boss. I trusted that he knew what he was doing. You need to show Lindsay the same respect. She made detective, she worked for Intelligence Unit, she worked counter-terror for the FBI, and now she's been put in charge of Intelligence Unit. Does that sound like someone who doesn't know what they're doing?"

Damn, that's me put in my place, Jay thought. But he knew that he was getting a bit of tough love from a friend. A friend who would do that was better than one who would always agree with you. Maybe it was advice he should take to heart. Instead of dissecting everything Lindsay did, he should do his own job to the best of his ability and support her. It would definitely make her life easier, and as her boyfriend that was absolutely something he should want.

"I think that might be good advice," he admitted. "It just hurts to see that happen to a friend. Kim's going to take some time to come back from this, Antonio."

"I understand that. And as a friend, be there for her. But when you're working, try to keep that out of your mind. That's my advice anyway, for what it's worth. I don't mean to sound like I'm lecturing you."

"No, you weren't lecturing. I appreciate the advice. Honestly, I think it was what I needed to hear. I'd better go and get ready to head in. Hopefully we can meat up for a beer soon?"

"Yeah, let's make that happen," Dawson said. And with that, they said their goodbyes.

* * *

Halstead arrived at the station feeling upbeat after his conversation with Antonio Dawson. He was going to do his best to stop questioning what Lindsay was doing and focus on his own job. In the car on the way in he had reminded himself that she had superiors to answer to. If there proved to be problems with how she ran the unit it was for them to deal with them, not him.

Entering Intelligence, Halstead found Atwater at his desk and Lindsay's door closed. Assuming she indented to work in the same manner as Voight, the door would only be closed when there was a private conversation happening inside.

"Hey," Atwater said in greeting.

"Morning. Who's in there?" Halstead asked, looking at the door.

"Ruze. He told me Lindsay isn't going to give Kim her job back. He's in there talking to her about it."

"Yeah, he told me yesterday," Halstead said. "What do you think of it?"

"I think it's harsh. Very harsh. I worked with Kim in uniform, and here in Intelligence. There's no better cop in this district, I don't care whether she's had a kid or not. This move is a loss for us. But I'm not the boss, Lindsay is."

"That's what I've been thinking," Halstead said, not mentioning that it had only been the case for the past hour.

"It makes you wonder who we're going to get in her place," Atwater said.

"I don't know," Halstead said. He had no intention of revealing that Lindsay had told him Olinsky had been scouting people for the job. Conversations that they had in private needed to stay that way. If she wanted to announce the scouting mission to the team, it was up to her to do so.

Zelina Vega was next to arrive. "Morning. I'm not going to mention any kind of hot beverage, otherwise I'll end up having to do the machine again," she said as she walked in.

Halstead laughed. It was early days, but so far he liked her combination of sass an humour. To him, she seemed like she would be good for undercover work. But her expertise was technology. Currently she was working with uniformed officers, who were helping her to trawl through the vast amount of CCTV that needed to be looked through in the hope of a lead on the person who had strangled at least three hookers to death.

"Alright, I'll get the coffee machine going," Halstead said, making like it was the biggest burden that had ever been put on a man in human history.

As he turned to go through to the canteen, Olinsky walked in. He had several files tucked under his arm, which he put on his desk as he greeted them, after a fashion. "Heard anything about the case?"

Everyone said that they hadn't, which they took as a good thing. Stationing a bunch of uniforms at Memorial Park may have put the killer off for a night, since it appeared to be his chosen dumping ground. Word was also out to Chicago's hookers to be on high alert if they insisted on working. Unfortunately none of them had been able to provide much in the way of information useful to the investigation so far.

"We have heard that Kim's not coming back to Intelligence though," Atwater said.

"Yeah, I heard that last night," Olinsky said.

As he went through to the canteen, Halstead wondered if his partner was being totally honest. How long had this scouting project been going on? The files that Olinsky had brought in had to be related to it. To have them prepared already, work must have been going into them for some time. Maybe Voight hadn't intended to bring Burgess back either, he wondered. It was the first time that possibility had occurred to him. Maybe the incoming boss was following a suggestion from the outgoing one, and making it seem like it was her decision alone. Jay didn't know, and he was realistic enough to tell himself that he probably never would. Al certainly wouldn't tell him. Squeezing blood out of a stone would be easier than getting confidential information out of him.

Halstead got to work on preparing the coffee machine for its first run of the day. While he did so, he considered what Lindsay's next step might be in the strangler case. He was interrupted by Ruzek walking in.

"Oh, you're doing the machine," he said.

"Yeah. How are you doing? I needn't ask what you were in the office about," Halstead said.

"I told Lindsay exactly what I think about her decision to screw Kim over, and I told her exactly what Kim thinks of it too. To be fair she was understanding, but refused to change her mind, not that I thought she would. She asked me if I was going to have a problem staying in the unit."

Halstead looked at his friend with raised eyebrows. "You're not going to quit, are you?"

"I thought about it," Ruzek confessed. "I talked about it with Kim this morning. But ultimately we agreed that no, that wouldn't be the right decision for me, my career or our family. So no, I'm not quitting. I'm pissed off big time, but I suppose I'll get through it."

Pleased to hear it, Halstead slapped him on the shoulder. "Good. Really wouldn't want to lose you."

Sergeant Lindsay appeared in the doorway. "Guys, finish making that coffee and come out here. It's briefing time."

"We'll be right there," Halstead said.


	9. Chapter 9

With a cup of coffee in hand, and one for Zelina Vega in order to continue the ongoing coffee related banter, Jay Halstead walked out into the Intelligence Unit room. To his surprise, he discovered that two female uniformed officers had arrived while he had been in the canteen. One was a young-looking brunette with long hair who was quite pretty. The other one he recognised as Officer Rose, who he and Olinsky had spoken to the day before at the crime scene in Memorial Park. When she wasn't freezing half to death outside, she looked even more like a model in a police uniform rather than an officer. However the fact that she was standing in Intelligence said she actually possessed quite a lot of ability.

"Here. Don't say I don't do anything for you," Halstead said, handing the coffee to Vega.

"Oh, thanks," she said. "I'll fix you one back in maybe four or five years."

"Can't say fairer than that," Halstead said with amusement.

Standing near the whiteboard, Sergeant Lindsay called the briefing to order. "Alright, listen up. Before we get to the strangler case, there's some Intelligence business to deal with. In case anyone hasn't heard yet, Kim Burgess will not be returning to the unit. Olinsky has been scouting out potential recruits, with a requirement to find a younger officer with the drive and ability to make a step up in their career. As you know, that has always been the recruitment policy in Intelligence. Everyone here including me came up that way, apart from Al. I think they built the station around him."

There was a ripple of laughter from everyone apart from Ruzek. Halstead noticed that his mouth remained in a firm grimace. He looked like he wanted to get out of the room ASAP.

"Olinsky and I had a long discussion last night, and were able to narrow the list down to two names. Here you have Deonna Purrazzo, and Amanda Rose," Lindsay said, motioning to them in turn.

"Al and I met Officer Rose yesterday morning at the Wilson scene," Halstead.

"I remember, sir," Rose said with a hint of a smile that looked like a gesture she didn't really want to be making at this vital moment of her career.

Lindsay ignored the little exchange. "Two very capable officers, either of which would be an excellent addition to the unit. But we only have one position available. So, for the next month, I'm going to take both of you on for what we'll call an evaluation period. Purrazzo, you'll be partnered with Jay Halstead. Rose, you'll be partnered with Kevin Atwater," she explained, motioning to the two men by way of introduction.

"Looking forward to it," Atwater said, seeming to Halstead like he was pleasantly surprised to be given the responsibility.

"During your evaluation period you'll be working as if you're full members of Intelligence Unit," Lindsay continued. "Halstead and Atwater will update me regularly on your performance, and of course it will be looked at in detail at the end of the period. The final decision on who gets the job will be mine. Give it your best shot, and show us what you can do. Now, an update on the case."

Halstead listened to the briefing, but in truth there wasn't much of interest that he didn't already know. In truth it was starting to look like it was going to require the strangler to kill again if he was going to be apprehended in the near future. His decision to dump his victim's bodies in the river was a smart one as the water had destroyed any DNA evidence that might otherwise have been recovered. With nothing of use being provided by the hookers they had spoken to so far, and Vega and the uniforms who had been assigned to her getting nothing from the CCTV footage either, there wasn't much to work with.

"Keep talking to your CIs, if you have any outstanding," Lindsay ordered. "If not, get some more names of working girls and start making your way through them. I want as many as possible spoken to. You never know, someone might have that vital clue we're looking for."

Or not, Halstead thought. But he knew that her order was the right one. For now, they had nothing else to go on. Purrazzo and Rose's introduction to Intelligence was likely to be even more boring than what they had been doing in their regular duties. But there was at least the future prospect of apprehending a serial killer. That kind of thing didn't come along too often.

"Z, you'll continue your work on the CCTV. Torrie Wilson is somewhere in that ream of footage you're going through. Hopefully her killer's vehicle is too. Try and make today the day we get something."

Vega nodded, nursing her cup of coffee in her hands. "We're on it. There's a lot to get through, but we'll find something. Word from someone who knew where Wilson was working that night would be a big help."

"We'll keep asking around," Olinsky said.

"Right, that's it. Let's not waste any more time," Lindsay said, motioning towards the stairs at the far end of the room to dismiss them.

* * *

Minutes later, Halstead was behind the wheel of one of the black SUVs that Intelligence Unit used. Officer Purrazzo was in the passenger seat.

"Okay, first things first," he said. "I know you're in uniform right now, but in future come dressed the way everyone in the office was. We don't work in uniform in Intelligence."

"Yes, sir," Purrazzo acknowledged.

"And the second thing is we're partners for the next month. You don't have to 'sir' me every time I say something to you. Call me Jay if you want. Otherwise Halstead is fine."

"Okay," she smiled. "Call me Deonna, or if things get friendly, Dee."

Halstead laughed. "We could potentially have a Z and a Dee on the team. It's starting to sound like a James Bond movie. All we need is a Q or an M."

Purrazzo laughed as he got the SUV moving. It was time to get more serious. "So, where's our first stop?" she asked.

"To speak to one of my Cis," Halstead said. "I couldn't track her down yesterday. I'm hopeful that she might know where Torrie Wilson was working on the night she was killed. She's the most recent of the victims."

"Right. Let's hope this CI can tell us something useful."

Spotting a gap in the traffic, Halstead pulled out of the parking garage, out onto the street. "We'll start at her address. While we're on our way over there, tell me a bit about yourself. I didn't even know you were with us today, much less having a chance to read your file. I guess Sergeant Lindsay wanted it that way."

"I guess so," Purrazzo said. "Well, I've been a cop for two years. Before that I was in the Marines."

"Really?" Halstead asked, glancing at her with some surprise. She didn't look especially tough, but anyone who made it into Marines had to be. It was also quite an achievement for someone looked so young. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven. I know, I don't look it."

"No, you don't. You look younger. You must have joined the military young?"

"I did. As soon as I was old enough, in fact. I had already decided I wanted to serve my country, so I didn't see any point in waiting."

But you left the military," he observed.

Purrazzo nodded. "I did. I came to find myself caught between wanting to serve, but not agreeing with where we were or what we were doing. The Marines wasn't the only way I could serve, so I left and joined the police. I was the fittest in my intake, and the best shot."

She had make the pronouncements without a hint of bragging. They were simply facts that she wanted him to be aware of.

"You're good with ARs?" he asked, referring to assault rifles, the weapons of choice in Intelligence. They didn't bother with pistols when they knew weapons would be needed on a job.

"Yes, and snipers. My longest shot for a confirmed kill is just under fifteen hundred yards."

Halstead liked what he was hearing. Having someone else on the team who could make shots at that kind of range could be useful in certain situations, he thought as he waited at a red light. He looked over at her. "What about other skills? Police work isn't all about shooting people."

"No, sir," Purrazzo said. Her military background seemed to make that form of address come as second nature. "Actually, I believe that police kill way too many people in this country. So far, I haven't had to do it once since I joined up. I realise it probably wouldn't stay that way if I made Intelligence."

Although she hadn't answered his question, Halstead went with it because he was interested in what she had said. "Does killing people trouble you? Have you ever hesitated when it needed to be done?"

"Absolutely not," she said firmly. "I don't like killing, but I am good at it. If a mission or keeping the rest of my unit required it, I got it done. That would still be the case now."

Finally, the light turned green. Halstead pulled away as he put his next question to Purrazzo. "How many people have you killed?" In truth, the number didn't matter to him. He wanted to learn if she remembered them. If she didn't, it would give a carefree impression that he wouldn't like.

"Fourteen," she asked, not needing to think about it.

Well, she's clearly got talent, Halstead thought. But that was obvious. She wouldn't have made the final two with Officer Rose if she wasn't. What remained to be seen was how she performed in the other areas required by Intelligence. Intelligence itself was one key attribute she was going to have to demonstrate, as was teamwork. People skills were also important, whether it was being delicate with a witness or victim, or forceful with a suspect in order to obtain information. Over the course of the month, he would test her on all of those things.


	10. Chapter 10

Looking at himself in his bathroom mirror, Jay Halstead made a little adjustment to his shirt collar. He was happy with his appearance ahead of his date with Erin. He had decided that he couldn't dress too formally, not for a baseball game. Therefore he had gone for dark blue jeans and a light blue shirt. Given the weather, he would be wearing a coat the whole time anyway. It was remarkable how Chicago could be so cold so often.

Ready to leave, he took his phone out of his pocket and typed out a quick message to Erin.

I'm leaving now. x

A reply came back before he even made it down the stairs.

Erin: It may be a big shock, but I'm ready! Looking forward to seeing you. xx

Her words put a smile on his face as he went through to his garage, grabbing and putting on a black coat along the way, and got into his car. Happily, unlike during the first few days of her return, he felt like he had been able to get Sergeant Lindsay out of his head. He was going to the game with Erin Lindsay, his girlfriend. With the passage of time, maintaining the distinction between the two in his mind was becoming easier.

Just go out with her, relax, and enjoy a good time, he told himself. They needed to try and forget the fact that they worked together, forget the hurt and upset in their past, and make a truly fresh start.

"And what better start than watching the Cubs lose?" he said to himself as he fired up the engine and started the electronic garage door opening. The self-depreciation of his own favourite team made him smile again, although in truth the team were looking very good on paper ahead of the new season, and had gone well during spring training.

It wasn't long before Jay was parking his car outside of Erin's house. The area definitely wasn't the best, he saw as he looked around it in daylight for the first time. Still, this was only where she was staying while she looked for a place, it wasn't actually her home.

Getting out of the car, Jay walked up to the front door. There was no sign of a doorbell, so he gave the door a firm knock.

It only took Erin a few moments to open the door. She too had gone for jeans, along with a black leather jacket and a blue Cubs beanie hat. She was carrying a pair of black leather gloves in one hand. Most importantly, there was a happy smile on her face. "Hi!" she said brightly. "Where's your Cubs merch?"

Jay laughed. "I don't buy merch."

"I don't buy merch," she impersonated, teasing him. "Well, today we're going to buy you some. We're both going to look the part."

"Yes, boss," he grinned, and she stretched up to give him a peck on the cheek.

"I didn't mean to start by teasing you. I've really been looking forward to this. It's been a while since I went out and had some fun, and even longer since I went on a date."

Jay laughed again. "I think George Bush was President the last time I went on a date, so you can bet I've been looking forward to it too."

"Which George Bush?" Erin asked as she closed and locked her front door, and they both laughed.

"I was thinking that we're going to be pretty cold by the time the game is over, and probably hungry. We could go for a meal somewhere?"

"I do like that idea, but I did have my heart set on a big dirty hot dog when we get to Wrigley."

"Do both," Jay said as they approached his car. "Have a hotdog before we get there and a meal after the game."

"Are you trying to get me fat?" she asked, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

"I think it would take more than an extra hotdog to do that to someone in such amazing shape," he said, deliberately laying it on thick.

"Oh god," Erin winced with good humour.

They got into the car, and Jay quickly started the engine and got the air con going to keep them warm.

"One thing I didn't miss about Chicago was the cold," Erin said.

"You were in New York. I can't believe that was much better."

She gave a little laugh. "No, I don't suppose it was."

With that, Jay got them underway on their journey to Wrigley Field. Most of the trip was spent talking about the Cubs. After being out of the city for five years, Erin wasn't quite as up to date on all of the players as Jay was. He was in his element as he passed on everything he knew.

"It's fun to be able to talk baseball with someone who likes it as much as I do," he said eventually. "I watch games with Adam and Kim, but they're not into it to the same extent."

"How is she?" Erin asked quietly, looking straight ahead.

The way she asked the question struck Jay, and he realised that cutting Kim from Intelligence had hurt her personally, even though she had deemed it to be necessary professionally. Such were the hard decisions that came with running a unit, he supposed. Now that they were with each other in a personal capacity, he took it upon himself to try and make her feel a bit better about things if he could. She had to be aware that her decision had ended whatever friendship there had been between her and Kim for good, so there was no point pretending that wasn't the case.

"She's hurting," he said honestly but gently.

"I'm sure she is," Erin said with a sigh. "It gave me no pleasure to do that to her, Jay. Kim was my friend. I'm sure was is the right word now."

"Yeah, I think it probably is," Jay said with sympathy. "I can't pretend to understand or agree with the decision, but I know you're doing what you think is best for the unit. Can we not talk about work? I think we could both do with having it out of our minds for a while."

"You're right," Erin agreed. "Anyway, looks like we'll be there soon. The traffic is starting to build up."

In the end it took them more than half an hour to crawl through the traffic jam and find a parking space in one of the lots.

"Wow, that was a mission," Jay said as he gratefully cut the engine.

"We're here in plenty of time," Erin said cheerfully, checking her watch. "I haven't been this excited for ages. I love the build up to a game. Hey, you didn't even tell me what seats we've got?"

"That's right, I didn't," Jay said, grinning. His tone conveyed the fact that he wouldn't be telling her, either.

"It's like that?" she asked, giving him that raised eyebrow look again.

He nodded. "It's like that. Come on, out into the cold. There's a hotdog waiting for you."

"Mmm. My stomach is rumbling."

As Jay got out of the car, he found himself thinking that he had never seen Erin like this. She had probably never seen him like he was either. They had been together in the past, but their relationships had not been happy. Honestly, they had been a mess. The two of them had been troubled people colliding, trying to make things better for each other, but in a way making them worse. This was different. This was two people who liked each other going on what felt like a first date. It was a fresh start in the truest sense, and it made him very happy.

"Yep, it's still cold," Erin said, hurriedly working her hands into her gloves. With that done, she zipped up her jacket.

"It might not be so bad once we're inside, maybe," he said as they started walking across the lot to the closest entrance.

"Don't hold your breath. Hey, can you get my picture with the stadium in the background?"

"Sure," Jay said, taking his phone out of his pocket. He took a few steps back while Erin turned to face him, the stadium looking impressive behind her. "Smile," he said.

"I am," she objected.

Jay laughed. "No, you're grimacing. You look like you're freezing to death."

Erin raised her right hand and stuck her middle finger up at him.

Laughing even harder, Jay quickly took a photo. "I got a picture of that. Now, do you want to get a nice one as well? Or should I just keep that one?"

Erin laughed also. "I can't believe you took that picture! Okay, let's get a good one." Putting the funny moment aside, she put a nice smile on her face.

God, she's so beautiful, Jay thought as he took the picture.

"Do you want to get a picture together? I could take it."

Jay turned around to look at the guy who had spoken to him. He was an overweight blonde man about Jay's age, walking with his equally overweight girlfriend.

"Sure. Thanks a lot," Jay said, offering his phone. The guy took it, and Jay walked over to Erin. He felt a little apprehensive about putting an arm around her to pose, but she settled the matter by putting an arm around his waist first. He liked how being so close to her felt. It reminded him of all the lonely nights he had spent wishing she was lying in his arms after she had left. And now here they were together again, against all the odds. His was the happiest of all smiles as he posed for the photo.

"Got it," the guy announced. "Could you take one for us?"

"Of course," Jay agreed. He took two phones from the new acquaintance and used the belong to the guy to take a picture of the couple, with the stadium in the background.

"Thanks, man. Enjoy the game," the guy said when he took his phone back.

"You too," Jay said.

"Let's see our picture," Erin said eagerly as the other couple walked away.

Jay pulled it up on his phone and held it so that they could both have a look. "What do you see there?" he asked, looking at their smiling faces.

"Two people who spent too long apart," Erin said softly after a moment. "What do you see?"

Jay felt touched by her answer. She was totally right. "Happy people," he decided on for his response. "Happy at last."

"I think you're right," she said. "Can you send me that? It's a lovely picture."

"Of course. Let's get inside and sit down, then I'll do it. I never thought this would happen, you know?"

"Me either. But it is," Erin said. She reached up and gave him a soft peck on the lips.

For the first time, Jay felt that just maybe Erin loved him as much as he loved her.


	11. Chapter 11

"There you go. One big ass hotdog, covered in mustard," Jay said, handing it to Erin. He also had a large soda for each of them. "It looks absolutely vile," he added as a joke.

"You have no taste, Jay Halstead," she said, smiling her appreciation for him buying it. "Didn't you want to get any food for yourself?"

"Nope. I figure that if there's a choice after the game between me starving to death or going for dinner, you're going to come to dinner with me. So, no food for me."

Erin laughed as they started walking off. "And if I don't go to dinner with you?"

"Well, I'll starve to death and it'll be on your conscience. If you can live with that..."

"I'll have to give it some thought," she said seriously, but Jay knew that there was humour beneath her words.

"Hey, here's a merch stand," Erin said suddenly as they continued around the stadium's curved concourse. She started to walk quickly towards the stand. "Let's see what we can get you."

Looking from a distance at what was on offer, Jay saw something that he could use for comedic effect. "I'm not getting one of those foam finger things."

"Aww, really? I think you'd look good with one."

"Thanks, I guess," he grinned.

Working their way into a gap in the crowd at the merch stand, they were able to get a proper look at what was on sale. A lot of it was replica team jerseys, t-shirts and hoodies, none of which Jay would wear. He loved baseball, but not that much. There were some beanie hats though, similar to the one Erin was wearing.

"You're really going to get me something?" he asked.

"Sure," Erin said cheerfully. "You can't come to watch the Cubs and not wear some kind of merch. It's just not a thing."

"Alright," Jay chuckled. "I'll go for one of those grey beanie hats. I can't exactly get a blue one, we'd pretty much be wearing the same thing."

"We couldn't have that, could we?" Erin grinned as a guy came over to serve them.

"What can I get you?" he asked.

"One of those grey beanies, please," Erin said, pointing.

The guy walked over and fetched one.

"Thirty dollars," he announced when he returned with it.

Jay resisted the urge to ask if there was any chance of some manners. He knew that Erin would be pissed off, but she too decided not to react. She simply dumped a twenty and a ten on the counter, took the beanie and walked off.

"What a prick," Jay said as he followed her.

"Yeah. But let's not let his attitude ruin a good time. Here, let's see how you look with this on," she said, handing him the beanie.

"Thank you," Jay said. He put the hat on and looked at Erin so that she could assess his new appearance. "We're on message now."

"We are," she grinned. "Now, maybe it's time you told me where we're sitting."

"We're at field level, close to third base. The best seats I could get my hands on."

"You got those seats at late notice, for the opening game?" she asked. There was that raised eyebrow gesture again.

"I did. Got them on resale, so they weren't cheap, but who cares? It's the opening game, and it's our first date. Well, kind of. You know what I mean."

"That's sweet, Jay," Erin said.

For a moment he thought she was going to kiss him, but she didn't. They set off walking again, now looking for the entrance to the section they were going to be sitting in.

"It's got to have been six years since I came here," Erin said as they walked out into the stadium.

"The last time I came was with Ruze last season," Jay said. "We lost that day, so maybe I'm bad luck."

"You had better not be," Erin said with mock sternness.

They soon found their seats, which were on the front row. Jay didn't regret what he had spent on the tickets. There was nowhere better to watch a game from, and he obviously wanted them to have the best time.

"This is perfect, Jay," Erin said happily once they were settled in. She tucked right into her hotdog as if her life depended on it.

"Isn't it?" he said, looking around the stadium. There was no doubt about it, they had some of the best seats in the house. "Now we've got to see if my unlucky streak holds up."

"No, I'm feeling lucky," Erin said, talking through a mouthful of food. "I think we're going to get a win out of this one."

* * *

By the time the game started, Jay's feet were cold enough that he could barely feel them. His hands weren't much better. He told himself that he should have brought some gloves, which Erin had been smart enough to do. At least the good time they were having was taking his mind off the cold. They had been chatting away non-stop, and work hadn't come up once.

The visiting team's first inning went well for the Cubs, getting the three outs with even conceding a hit, let alone a run. Then it was time for the Cubs to bat.

"Go on! First pitch, straight out of the park!" Erin shouted at the Cubs' opening batter.

Jay laughed, loving her excitement and enthusiasm. "I'm not sure it's as simple as that."

As he said it, the first pitch was delivered. The batter swung at it hard and nailed it, blasting it down the centre of the field.

"Woah! That's out of here!" Erin yelled, leaping to her feet amid a roar from the crowd.

Jay joined in her in standing, but he was a little less optimistic about the hit as a fielder ran towards the wall, hoping to make a catch. "That's going to be caught," he said.

"No way," Erin insisted.

The ball came down, and would have cleared the wall by a few inches if it hadn't been for the fielder, who was able to jump and pluck it out of the air, drawing a groan of disappointment from the crowd.

"Aww!" Erin cried, instinctively turning to Jay for a consolatory hug. "I really thought that was a home run," she whined.

"Almost," Jay commiserated. The few seconds that she spent in his arms meant more to him than a run ever would.

* * *

At the end of each inning, a Kiss Cam was featured on the stadium's big screen. Jay wasn't even watching it at the bottom of the third inning, leaning back in his seat and drinking his soda. Erin almost made him jump when she squealed beside him.

"Jay! It's us!" she cried.

"What? Oh, God," Jay said, looking at the screen and seeing them on it. Some of the crowd started cheering them on as he quickly put his drink down.

"We'd better make it a good one," Erin said with a laugh.

"Yes," he said.

With that, they both moved in for the kiss. Erin cupped his cheeks with her hands as their lips met. Jay's mind was instantly blown when they started smooching each other. He was totally oblivious to the cheers of the crowd. He wanted the kiss to go on forever, even if she did taste of mustard.

And then, just like that, it was over. Erin pulled back, wiping dampness from her lips. The camera was off them already. "Wow," she breathed, eyes gleaming. "You're quite the kisser, Jay."

"So are you. I won't be forgetting this date any time soon," he smiled, feeling his heart racing.

* * *

"And that's going to do it," Jay said as the final batter for the visiting team popped up an easy ball for the pitcher to catch. The simple catch was taken, sealing a six to two win for the Cubs.

"You're not so unlucky after all," Erin said as they both applauded their victorious team. "No offense, but do you mind if we get out of here? I'm so cold it's unreal."

"We can get out of here on one condition. Dinner."

"You're not going to take no for an answer on that are you?" she asked.

"No."

Erin giggled at his response. "Alright, fine. But find us somewhere nice."

"I've already got somewhere planned," Jay said, speaking as though he had never doubted she would go to dinner with him.

"Confidence. I like that in a man."


	12. Chapter 12

Jay Halstead woke up in an emotional mess, not that he was a stranger to that at this point. He should have been on a high after such a successful date with Erin. The baseball game and the dinner afterwards had been the best time he could remember having, and they had even kissed when he had dropped her off at home. But during the night he had dreamed about being on a job with Adam Ruzek and Kim Burgess. His two closest friends and most trusted colleagues were Intelligence Unit as far as he was concerned, as much as Hank Voight had been. Lindsay's decision to unjustly and callously cut Burgess from the team was never going to sit right with him.

And there was another problem. Kim being one of his best friends made him feel like he was knifing her in the back by dating Erin. He just couldn't properly separate Erin from Sergeant Lindsay, and he doubted Kim would be able to either. There was only one thing he could do, and even that wasn't likely to be a solution. He had to talk to Kim. The least he could do was be open with her about what was going on and what a mess he was in about how to deal with it all. Her reaction would have to be whatever it was, and he would have to accept it no matter what. One thing he didn't want to do was throw their friendship out of the window. It meant too much to him to discard it.

So, with a plan in mind, he got up, showered, and ate a quick breakfast. His plan was to go over to Adam and Kim's before they left for work and talk to them. He expected that it would be a weight off his shoulders to put everything he was feeling out there. He had to trust his friends not to go off the deep end with him about it.

When he arrived at his friends' house, Halstead saw that their car was not on the driveway, but a different car was. At least one of them had to be out already, likely with someone sitting for Alex. He figured he would go and knock the door anyway in case Kim was home.

If she is home, how do I put what I want to say to her? Halstead asked himself as he walked up to the front door. He probably should have planned it all out ahead of time, but even if he had, the conversation probably wouldn't have unfolded the way he imagined it.

For a moment, Halstead hesitated to push the doorbell, wondering if he should abandon the idea and head into the office early to work on the strangler case instead. But no, that would only mean another day of emotional turmoil, and he wasn't sure if he could stand that.

When he pressed the doorbell, Jay heard the sound of it inside the house, followed by Kim's voice calling out to someone.

"It's okay, I've got it!"

Moments later, the door opened. Kim stood there wearing a simple white t-shirt, black leggings and green rubber gloves covered in soap suds. Clearly she wasn't going to work any time soon.

"Jay! Come in," she said with a broad smile on her face, happy to see him. "If you're looking for Adam, you've just missed him. He's gone in early, hoping to make some progress with this serial killer."

"Hi, Kim," Halstead smiled back as he stepped into the house and closed the door behind him. "It was actually you I wanted to speak to. Are you not working today?"

Burgess spread her arms and laughed. "Don't I look ready to patrol the streets? No, I'm working a night shift tonight. Someone asked to switch with me and I owed them a favour, so I couldn't really say no. Come through to the kitchen, I'm halfway through cleaning up after breakfast."

"A night shift must be the last thing you need. How's Alex?" Halstead said as they went through to the kitchen.

The cooker was where the cleaning was currently happening, and Burgess went back to work. "He's great, thanks. Mom and dad are here. They're taking him to their place today to give me a shot at some sleep. So, what brings you over here? Are you okay?"

Such a simple question, with such a complicated answer. Where to even begin? With the truth, he supposed. He was going to have to spit it out one way or the other. "Honestly, no, I'm not okay. I'm not okay and I need to talk to you about it."

Burgess stopped scrubbing the hob and looked at him with the concern and compassion that everyone who knew her loved her for. "What's wrong, Jay? Anything I can do to help, I will, you know that."

"Of course I do. The thing is, my head is in one hell of a mess right now. Lindsay's decision to cut you from Intelligence was wrong. It was so far beyond wrong. I'm having a really hard time dealing with it." Then he realised how stupid and inappropriate he sounded. It was Kim who had lost her dream job, the job she had busted her as at for years, and here he was saying that _he_ couldn't deal with her losing it. "Sorry, Kim, I sound like an asshole here, don't I?"

"No!" she said emphatically. "You sound like a concerned and angry friend, and I thank you for that. But, Jay, you don't need to get your head in a mess over this. This is my problem, not yours, and in any case there's nothing to be done about it now. Lindsay told Adam her decision is final, and I know she's already moving to replace me. I'll never forgive her for it, but I know there's no point trying to fight her on it either."

And now for the really difficult part, Halstead thought. "It's not just that messing my head up. The thing is, Kim, you know how I felt about Erin before she left, and after she left. I was going to propose to her. When she came back, I immediately fell for her again, even though I was still mad at her for leaving. The whole situation is such a mess, but we went on a date yesterday and it went amazingly well. But part of me feels like I'm betraying you and Adam's friendship. I'm in a situation where I'm constantly thinking things that are opposite to each other, and I can't with it."

Burgess sighed and looked at him with an understanding expression on her face. She didn't get a chance to answer, for her mother walked into the kitchen carrying a tired-looking little Alex.

"We're going then, Kim. Hi," she added, smiling to Jay.

"Hi," he smiled back.

"Mom, this is Jay. He is... was... a colleague of mine in Intelligence, and he's a close friend."

"Nice to meet you," Kim's mom said as her dad walked straight by the kitchen with a bag of things for Alex, heading out to the car.

"Nice to meet you too," Halstead said.

"I'll just see them off," Kim said to Jay, and she left the kitchen with her mom.

Waiting, Halstead listened to Burgess saying goodbye to her son. He found himself thinking that Alex was lucky to have Kim and Adam for parents. A kid had never been more loved, that much was for certain.

"Sorry about that," Kim said when she returned to the kitchen. "They're going to spoil him rotten. They love having him to stay over so much."

"I'm sure the little guy will love it too. He looked tired though."

"Yeah, he was awake early today with Adam. He'll have a nap when he gets to their place, then he'll be full of energy. That'll give them something to deal with," she said with a laugh.

"You don't seem pissed at me about Erin," Halstead said hopefully.

"Why would I be pissed at you, Jay? You've made it more than clear to me, Adam, and to Erin, exactly how you feel about her taking me off the team. You went into bat as much as any friend could be expected to, if not more so. If you want to date her outside of work, that's your business and I don't have a problem with you because of it. Just know that she's not welcome in this house, and I won't be going on a night out or anything if she's there. I have no forgiveness for what she's done, not that she has sought any."

Feeling incredibly relieved, Halstead put a grateful hand on his friend's shoulder. "Thanks, Kim. I should have known you would say something like that. Erin coming back really threw me for a loop. But as far as Intelligence goes, don't give up on it yet. You got there the first time by being one of the best cops in this city. I know damn well that hasn't changed. You keep doing your thing, and Lindsay will hear about it whether she likes it or not."

"I'll do that," Burgess promised him. "I already told Adam I'm not going to let this break me, and I meant it."

"I know you will," Halstead said with absolutely confidence. "I'd better head into the office and leave you to your cleaning. I'm glad we had this conversation."

"Me too. And if you find yourself struggling again call me, come over, whatever. Don't suffer in silence, alright?"

"I won't. Have a good night shift, if that's possible."

Burgess smiled. "I'll try. Good look with the strangler. Maybe today's the day you'll get the guy."

"Let's hope so," Jay said as she walked him to the door. They said their goodbyes, and he got into his car feeling a hell of a lot better than he had when he had gotten out of it. Having a close friend like Kim was an invaluable thing. And the conversation had reinforced what he had already been trying to tell him. Sergeant Lindsay and Erin, his girlfriend, had to be kept separate. He was finally starting to feel like that was something he could actually do.


	13. Chapter 13

At long last, Jay Halstead felt like his life was starting to return to normal. His emotions had stopped bouncing from one extreme to the other all the time, thanks in part to his talk with Kim Burgess. The fact that there had been no drama around him had helped a lot.

For the past couple of days, apart from an icy atmosphere between Adam Ruzek and Sergeant Lindsay, Intelligence Unit had been working pretty much as normal on the strangler case.

Watching Lindsay in action leading the team, Halstead had come to the realisation that he had been doing her a disservice when he had thought the FBI had taught her leadership. The more he saw her work, the more she reminded him of Voight. She wasn't a Voight by blood, but she was by upbringing, and she had been with Intelligence for it's first four years of existence. Her time under the learning tree had not gone to waste, for that was where her leadership traits came from. Her decision making on how to staff the unit was the only ongoing concern he had, but the Burgess decision had been made.

Even with the situation in Intelligence improving, there hadn't been much progress on the strangler case. Since the case had been kicked up to Intelligence, there had been no further victims, or at least no further victims that were known about. With no useful witness information and nothing turning up on the CCTV search, they were struggling.

As Jay got out of his car at the police station, arriving for the shift, he saw Erin arrive and park a few spots away. Perfect timing, he thought, opting to wait for her.

"I just got a call. There's been another body found in Memorial Park," Lindsay shouted to him as she got out of her car.

"I thought we had uniforms stationed there?" he called back.

"We did until last night. It was decided that since we had a few nights with nothing, it was a waste of resources," Lindsay said, walking towards him. When she reached him, they walked together towards the station's entrance.

"He was watching the park," Halstead thought aloud. "He waited until the cops were gone to resume his killing spree so that he could dump the body there. That park is special to him for some reason."

"Exactly what I was thinking. We'll go upstairs and inform the team, then we'll all get down to the scene. We need to get something this time so that we can make sure this is the final victim."

A correct and noble intention, Halstead thought, but serial killers could be elusive sons of bitches. So far, this one had given them precious little to work with. If they were going to catch him now, they were realistically relying on him to have made a mistake.

The timing couldn't have been any better, or maybe any worse. As they walked into the station, Burgess and her partner were just turning away from Sergeant Platt's front desk to head out on duty.

"Morning, Jay," Burgess said cheerfully as they passed each other, acting like Lindsay was invisible.

"Morning, Kim," he replied, feeling like he was being put in a position.

"I think I'm off the Christmas card list," Lindsay said dryly as they continued up the stairs to Intelligence.

"You know my thoughts on Kim losing her job. Let's just leave it at that," Halstead said. Right now he wanted to focus on the strangler, not on having another office argument.

"Fair enough."

Walking into the Intelligence room, Halstead saw Olinsky, Atwater, Ruzek, Rose and Purrazzo were there already. Everyone had been coming in early during this case, especially the two potential recruits, who were keen to impress.

"Everyone's here apart from Z?" Lindsay asked.

"I'm here, boss," came the familiar strong New York accent from the direction of the canteen. Vega walked out to join them, carrying a cup of coffee.

"Alright, good, listen up," Lindsay said as the team assembled in front of her. "Another body has just been found in Memorial Park. It seems likely that our killer was waiting for us to remove the uniform presence before he continued his killing spree. Apart from Z, we're all going to get down there, we're going to do a thorough search, and we're going to get something on this guy. It rained last night, so we're going to look for footprints and tyre tracks."

That was a possible avenue to a lead, Halstead thought. Footprints could be matched to individual shoes or boots, if the correct shoes or boots were found. Tyre tracks could be matched to a vehicle, if the vehicle could be tracked down.

"I knew it was a bad idea to send the uniforms away," Rose said.

"In a way, you're right," Lindsay said. "But with so little to go on, we pretty much needed this guy to kill again to get something on him. Z, you stay here in case we need any technical assistance. The rest of you, let's not waste any more time. Move out!"

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Halstead and Purrazzo got out of their car at the closest access point to where the body had been found at Memorial Park. There was a uniformed officer there to direct them where to go to find the crime scene.

Moments behind them, Atwater and Rose's car arrived, with the third car containing Lindsay, Olinsky and Ruzek right behind them. There was a helicopter in the air, flying slowly above the park.

"Is that a news helicopter?" Purrazzo asked with distaste, looking up at it.

"It sure is," Halstead said, also looking up. "They can't get their cameras near the scene, so they put them in the air instead."

"Goddamn vultures."

Indeed, he thought.

Sergeant Lindsay received directions from the uniformed officer, then started leading the team across a large, damp grassy area in the direction of the river. There was a treeline in the distance, with the crime scene just behind it, apparently.

They were about halfway across the grass when Lindsay's radio came to life with a call from a dispatcher.

"Go for Lindsay," she said.

Halstead was able to hear the female dispatcher on the other end of the call.

"Sergeant Lindsay, are you on scene at Memorial Park?"

"We just arrived. What's going on?"

"I've got a reporter on the line. She's calling from Chicago News Chopper 2, which I'm guessing you can see above you."

"Uh, yeah," Lindsay said as everyone who could hear the dispatcher looked up at the helicopter.

"She's saying she can see a second body, further up river from the first. She can also see a man walking away from it. There's a white van in the direction he's heading, parked at a little entrance to the park."

Lindsay was running back towards the cars before the last sentence was even finished. She yelled out a repeat of the information for those who hadn't heard it directly.

"That's our guy!" Purrazzo cried to Halstead, running beside him.

"It may well be! We've got to get to that van before he does!"

Within moments all three cars were screaming off up the street, sirens wailing. Halstead had his car second in line behind Lindsay's. Over the radio, she passed on information that the van was parked on a street called Palmer, and that the man had just gotten into it.

"Shit. We're not going to get there in time," he said as he weaved through the traffic at speed.

He was right. By the time the convoy of three cars got to the entrance to the park where the van had been parked there was no sign of it. The crucial few minutes had given the suspect time get away.

"Now what? We can't lose him!" Purrazzo cried from the passenger seat.

"Now we split up and track him down."

Almost immediately, Lindsay was on the radio issuing directions for which streets she wanted each car to take in the hope of finding the van. She had already called in all squad cars in the area and requested helicopter support.

Halstead squealed the car through a left turn at an intersection, then a right at the next one, following Lindsay's order. There was no white van in sight, fleeing or otherwise, he saw to his frustration.

"No van on 75th," Purrazzo reported on her radio.

Moments later, Atwater announced that he and Rose had come up empty as well.

Halstead felt rage boiling up inside him. Had the bastard really given them the slip? He didn't want to countenance the idea.

* * *

In Sergeant Lindsay's car, Olinsky was driving. Lindsay was in the passenger seat, keeping an eye out on her side of the car for white vans parked in the alleyways they were driving by. In the back, Ruzek was doing the same thing on the other side of the car.

"There! White van!" he shouted suddenly, spotting one in a narrow alleyway. There was no guarantee it was the one they were looking for of course.

Olinsky slammed the brakes on, bringing the car screeching to a halt. Fortunately there was no one behind them, and he was able to reverse back to the alleyway and turn the car to face it.

"Could be it. Could not be," Lindsay said.

They soon got their answer, as the van roared off down the alleyway. The driver must have seen them in his mirrors.

"That's him! He's running!" Ruzek shouted unnecessarily.

Olinsky already had the car speeding down the alleyway, while Lindsay was giving a play by play over the radio. All available units in the area would start converging on their position.

Exiting the alleyway, the van squealed through a left turn and tore off up the street. Lindsay's car emerged about ten seconds later, almost colliding with a bus as it flew out of the alleyway.

The van and the pursuing police car weaved through the traffic. On an open road the car would have been able to catch up fairly easily, but in these conditions the traffic limited them both to pretty much the same speed.

After a few blocks, the made a right turn, heading onto a road with industrial buildings on either side of it, many of them abandoned and run down. There was a lot less traffic on this road than the previous one.

"Now we'll catch the son of a bitch," Lindsay said as Olinsky put his foot to the floor, the engine roaring in response.

Either because he realised he had made a mistake with the road he had chosen, or because he had reached his destination, the van driver took another right turn, smashing through a steel gate into the grounds of an abandoned factory of some kind.

Lindsay continued her play by play over the radio, giving their location and ordering units to cover any other exits there might be from the factory. Up ahead, the van came to a halt, the van driver bailed out, and ran through a doorway where the heavy metal door had been left standing open. He was a tall, strong-looking guy, maybe late thirties, with very short brown hair. He looked easily capable of strangling an unexpecting prostitute with his bare hands.

"That's just great!" Lindsay raged. "Now we're going to have to find the bastard in there, with all manner of nooks and crannies he could hide in."

Olinsky stopped the car just behind the van, and all three of them jumped out, drawing their pistols. The sound of sirens could be heard as other cars approached.

Cautiously, Lindsay led the way inside the factory. They were confronted with a maze of rusty machinery and metal walkways. The suspect could have gone anywhere into the maze.

"We'll have to split up. Take it steady, he could be hiding anywhere. He could be armed, and he's obviously dangerous. Check your corners," Lindsay said.

"I got right," Ruzek said, heading off in that direction.

"Al, go left," Lindsay ordered. With that, she set off across the factory floor in a straight line from the door come through. As she walked, she was careful with her corners as she went past each enormous machine. There was no sign of the suspect anywhere.

After crossing the factory floor, Lindsay went through another open door. This one led into a hallway with offices and store rooms off either side of it. There was no power to the building, so all of the lights were off, and there were no windows in the area.

"Shit," Lindsay said under her breath. With it being broad daylight outside, she hadn't brought a torch with her. Now she was going to have to clear each room in near total darkness.

The first room she tried was small, a former storage room she guessed, judging by the random clutter strewn across the floor. There was no one in there, which was what mattered.

Right across the hallway was an office. The open wooden door had a plaque on it: 'Security'. At one time there had probably been monitors and the like in the room, but now there was only a large wooden desk in the middle of it, with more crap strewn on the floor. Behind the desk would be a potential place for someone to hide, though.

With her gun up and ready to fire if anyone made a move on her from behind the desk, Lindsay approached it slowly, deciding to go around the left side of it. There was nobody there.

As she turned to leave, she was struck a nasty blow in the face with something, sending her collapsing to the floor, flat on her back. Her gun bounced out of her hand and across the floor. She hadn't heard anyone creeping up on her, and had been given no chance to react.

The blow had damn near knocked Lindsay out. In addition she suffered the shock of being attacked out of nowhere. Her ears ringing and her vision blurred, she tried to focus on her attacker, who had to be the murderer. She felt blood running down her face as a dark figure loomed over her. She was able to make out what looked like a long metal bar or pole being raised high into the air for a killing blow.

Then a beam of light lit up the room. "Drop it!" a woman shouted.

The figure above Lindsay turned around, still brandishing the weapon.

"If you come at me with that bar I'm going to shoot you, take it from you, and beat you to death with it," the woman said. It sounded like a guarantee, not a threat. "Drop it, and get on the floor! Now!"

After a moment of hesitation, the attacker dropped the bar and started to lower himself to the floor.

"All the way down. Lie on your front."

The effects of the blow to the head started to wear off for Lindsay, and she was able to see who had likely saved her life. "Burgess!"

"Sergeant Lindsay. You okay?" Burgess said as she knelt on the suspect's back, cuffing him. She informed him that he was under arrest on suspicion of murder. Assaulting a police officer would also be on his list of charges, of course.

All Lindsay could think about as she awkwardly sat up was what she had heard Burgess say about beating the killer to death with his pole. "Kim, what you just said to him. That was... badass. I've never heard you talk like that before."

"Yeah, well, you were gone for five years. And I didn't exactly get a chance to show you what I can do when you came back, did I?"

* * *

Having heard Burgess shouting, Halstead was one of several people running towards the scene. Purrazzo was right behind him.

When he entered the former security office, he saw a man detained on the floor, and Burgess helping Lindsay to her feet. Lindsay had a nasty cut above her right eye that was leaking a lot of blood down her face.

"Erin! Are you okay?" he asked with concern that went beyond the professional, rushing over to her.

"I'll be alright, thanks to Kim."


	14. Chapter 14

Ambulance 84, recently assigned to the 21st District police station, had been called to the abandoned factory, and had taken Sergeant Lindsay to hospital after the paramedics had treated her head injury as best they could at the scene.

While the rest of the Intelligence team had gone back to the station to make a start on the processing and interrogation of the suspect they had arrested, who so far had exercised his right to remain silent, Jay Halstead and Deonna Purrazzo had gone to the hospital, ostensibly to check on the boss. Halstead had a more personal reason to want to check on Lindsay, of course.

When they walked into the ER's entrance area, Halstead saw Sylvie Brett and Peter Mills, the paramedics from Ambulance 84, hanging around over on one side of the room. He knew they had expected someone from Intelligence to come, and were waiting to offer an update and their well wishes.

"Hey, how is she?" Halstead asked as he approached the paramedics.

Brett handled the question. "She's got a concussion. That was one heck of a blow to the head she took. Officer Burgess told me she never lost consciousness, which is remarkable. As you saw, she has a pretty nasty gash above her eye. She's been cleaned up and sutured. The doctor actually just left her room before you walked in. With the cut being quite close above her eye, she's getting quite a shiner and some unpleasant swelling. With a concussion, there will be headaches for a week or two, but overall she'll be fine, thankfully. You can find her back there." She pointed to one of the patient rooms towards the back left of the ER. The door was currently closed.

"Thanks, Brett," Halstead said.

"Sure. See you back at the 21st."

Halstead smiled at the two paramedics as they left.

"She seems nice," Purrazzo said.

"Yeah, you won't meet a nicer person than Brett," he said. He didn't add that rumour had it Atwater had recently started dating her. Purrazzo was too much of an Intelligence rookie to be included in the office gossip. What he actually needed at the moment was to get her out of the way so that he could talk to Erin in private for a minute, as his girlfriend instead of his boss. "Why don't you go find somewhere to get us a coffee."

"I thought we were both going to see Sergeant Lindsay?" she objected.

"That wasn't a request, Purrazzo," Halstead said, stiffening his tone just a bit.

"Of course. Coffee it is," she said, heading off to look for a vending machine.

With his understudy out of the way, Jay hurried over to Erin's room and went in. She was lying with her one good eye closed. The other was swollen shut, and on the way to turning a horrid purple colour. Above it was a line of sutures. At least the blood had been cleaned up.

"Hey, it's me," he said quietly, unsure if she was awake.

"Jay?" Her eyes remained closed and she sounded groggy.

"Yeah. How's the head?" Jay asked as he went over to the chair by the bed and sat down.

"I'm told I have a concussion, which explains why I can't remember what happened, and why I can't open my eyes because the light hurts too much. My head is pounding, even with whatever drugs they filled me with."

"I don't think you'd be opening one of them anyway."

A vague grimace was the closest Erin could get to laughing. "Not the time for jokes, Jay. Has the guy confessed?"

Her timeline was messed up too, Halstead realised. There had been nothing like enough time for a confession. The interrogation was probably only just starting over at the station. He decided not to correct her yet, realising that what she needed was rest. In time, the concussion would go away and her face would heal up. There might be a scar from the cut for a while, but hopefully it wouldn't be permanent.

"I don't know," was the answer he chose. "What do you remember about what happened back there?"

"Not much," Erin groaned. "I remember going inside, then... nothing. Wait. Burgess. Burgess was there. She must have saved me. I remember she said something about me not giving her a chance to show what she can do."

"Well, she had a point. But don't worry about that now. Rest up, and hopefully you'll be able to sleep off the worst of the headache. I'll come back and see you again after my shift."

"I think I'm a bit rusty at Intelligence work. This shouldn't have happened," Lindsay said vaguely. Nothing he had said seemed to have registered with her.

"I'll let you rest." Getting up, he was about to give her a peck on the cheek, but he noticed Purrazzo appear at the door, so he squeezed Erin's shoulder instead, getting a soft groan in response. With that, he left the room.

"I found two coffee machines. One wouldn't take any money, the other had no cups in it," Purrazzo complained as they started walking towards the exit. "Anyway, we're leaving? I didn't get a chance to speak to Sergeant Lindsay."

"She needs to rest. She's pretty out of it with the concussion. The best thing we can do right now is get back to the station and help the team make an airtight case on this bastard. Let's not forget, he didn't just assault Lindsay, he's a serial killer. We need to put him away for life."

"Yes, sir," Purrazzo said as they walked outside into the cold, heading for the parking lot. "You know what I don't understand?"

"What's that?"

"Why he was either dumping or going back to a body in broad daylight. He must have known there would be police around. It seems like it was only that news helicopter showing up that scared him into going back to his van."

"Good question," Halstead said, giving her a hint of praise with his tone. "That's been on my mind, too. We're assuming this our guy of course. We don't know that yet. Hopefully we'll get some answers when we get back to the station."

* * *

When Halstead and Purrazzo walked back into the Intelligence room, only Olinsky was there, sitting at his desk. He looked up when they entered.

"How's Lindsay?" was his opener.

Halstead handled the answer. "She's going to be okay. She has a concussion and a nasty cut with a bunch of sutures in it. She was pretty out of it, so I left her to rest. Having me talking at her wouldn't have helped anything."

"Lucky Burgess showed up when she did back there," Olinsky said.

Having heard their voices, Zelina Vega walked through from her office. Halstead repeated his update on Lindsay to her.

"Where's everyone else?" Purrazzo asked.

With Lindsay out of action, Olinsky was temporarily in charge of Intelligence. He had an order for them. "Ruzek's interviewing the suspect. Atwater and Rose are observing. We have the suspect's name and address thanks to the plates on the van. His name's Randy Orton, 1125 St. Louis. Get over there and search the place. Take Atwater and Rose with you. You'll find them at Interview Room 3."

"You got it," Halstead said.

"That's a shame. I would have liked to observe the interrogation," Purrazzo said to Halstead as they went back down the stairs out of Intelligence. It reminded him that she and Rose were regular patrol officers, albeit the cream of the crop. They got to arrest suspects and bring them in, where other officers or detectives took over. Interrogation was something they needed to be shown in order to learn how to do it well.

"There will be time for that," he said. "This isn't the movies, where the good guys get a full confession from the bad guy in the space of ten minutes. There will likely be multiple interviews across several days. You'll get your chance to observe. Maybe I'll even get you in the room at some point."

"Wait, seriously?" Purrazzo cried excitedly.

"I said maybe," Halstead said wryly as they approached Interview Room 3, and the observation room next to it. He opened the door to the observation room and spoke to Atwater and Rose. "You guys are with us. We're going to search the house."

"He hasn't said a word yet," Atwater said as he and Rose walked out of the room, complying with the new order without question. The group headed for the station's front entrance.

"Not one?" Purrazzo asked.

"Nope. He lawyered up right away, then he's just sat there. Haven't even heard a 'no comment' out of him," Rose said.

"That's actually very unusual," Halstead said.

"Yeah, I was just explaining that when you showed up," Atwater said. "You'll almost never get someone who says nothing. Denials or 'no comments', yes, but not total silence. It does probably mean this is our guy, though. If there was some misunderstanding or a supposedly innocent explanation such as he discovered that second body and ran because he's scared of cops, we'd have heard it by now."

"Good point," Purrazzo said.

It was Jay Halstead's first time mentoring another officer. The satisfaction he got from seeing the young and talented Deonna Purrazzo learning came as something of a surprise to him. If Kim Burgess truly couldn't have her job back, he wanted Purrazzo to be the one to get it. And that was nothing against Amanda Rose, who he was sure was also a great prospect. She wouldn't have been invited into the trial program if she wasn't.

Exiting the station, it was time for the two pairs to split up and head for their cars.

"The address is 1125 St. Louis," Halstead said in case Atwater and Rose didn't know. "We'll see you over there."

Atwater nodded. "See you there. Let's see what this animal's place tells us about him."


	15. Chapter 15

There was nothing remarkable about 1125 St. Louis, Halstead saw when he parked out front of it. It was a two storey detached house with a small front garden that could have used a bit of attention. There was nothing parked on the driveway, which wasn't a surprise considering the owner and his van were at the police station.

"It's going to be awkward if there's a wife in there," Purrazzo said from the passenger seat.

"If there is, we'll need to assess whether her surprise seems genuine. It wouldn't be the first time by any means that a couple have been serial killers."

"That's true. What a first Intelligence case that would be."

To Halstead, she sounded a bit too much like she was enjoying the day's events. It was an easy mindset for someone who was new to this kind of work to get into. In fact he remembered doing it himself. But that didn't mean it was acceptable.

"People are dead, Purrazzo. It's not a day out at the beach."

"You're right. Sorry, sir," she said, looking chastised.

"Let's go," he said, seeing Atwater and Rose pull up behind them.

All four of them got out of the cars and started approaching the house.

"We'll take the front, you cover the back," Halstead said to Rose and Atwater. It was always good practice to have the back of a house covered in situations like this in case someone tried to flee.

"Got it," Atwater said. He and Rose walked off along the side of the house towards a gate that they were going to have to climb over.

Halstead raised a hand to tell Purrazzo to wait a moment. They were not going to approach the front door until their colleagues were in position. They only had to wait less than a minute.

"In position," Atwater's voice said over the radio.

Halstead promptly walked up to the front door and banged on it with his fist.

"Chicago PD!"

No response came from inside. Peering through one of the two narrow vertical windows in the door, he saw no sign of life inside. He banged on the door again.

"Chicago PD!"

After about another fifteen seconds, Halstead decided there was likely no one home. They were going to have to let themselves in.

"Okay, Purrazzo, kick the door in."

"Me? I mean, yes, sir."

They switched positions, and Halstead watched to see what his protégé could do. There was a certain technique to kicking a door in that he figured he was going to have to...

With a kick more powerful than her appearance suggested she was capable of, Purrazzo busted the door open on her first attempt, breaking the lock off the door frame.

There was no time to admire or praise her work. Halstead rushed in before her, gun raised. It only took him a few moments to clear the living room, kitchen, and lastly the dining room, with Purrazzo behind him as backup. There wasn't a sight or sound of anyone in the house. French doors opened from the dining room into the garden. They were locked.

"Downstairs is clear. Come around the front," he said to Atwater via his radio. Through the doors, he saw Atwater and Rose start back towards the side of the house.

"Now we clear upstairs, right?" Purrazzo said, going back out into the hallway.

"Yes," Halstead said. "Then we'll search up there." Atwater and Rose walked in through the front door. "You guys search downstairs. We'll go up."

Atwater nodded, then gave Rose instructions for their search.

Meanwhile, Halstead led Purrazzo upstairs. There were four doors off the landing, all closed, he discovered.

"You take those two, I'll take these two," he said, pointing to the doors in question. "Make sure you clear them properly before searching. And remember to glove up before you touch anything."

"Yes, sir," Purrazzo said. Any air of excitement was now gone. She was all business, befitting the situation.

They parted ways to clear their rooms. The first door Halstead opened belonged to a bathroom. There was nothing worthy of serious attention in there, but he did note that there was only one toothbrush on the sink, and no female oriented products anywhere. It told him that Orton was a single man who lived alone.

Opening the other door that he had assigned to himself, he saw a master bedroom. He walked in and cleared it, then he heard Purrazzo call out, loud enough for everyone in the house to hear.

"You're going to want to see this!"

Halstead hurried out of the master bedroom and into the room next door. It was a smaller bedroom, in this case being used as some kind of study. There was a large wooden desk on the far side of the room, where Purrazzo was standing.

"What have you got?" he asked.

She was standing looking at something on the desk. "You'd better look."

Concerned, Halstead walked over to her. He soon saw what she was alerting him to. There were dozens of photos on the desk, showing the naked bodies of multiple women. It seemed they had been taken in the back of Orton's van.

"Well, safe to say we have our guy," he said.

"That's not what bothered me," Purrazzo said. There was a second stack of photos in her hand. When she handed them to him, he could barely believe what he was looking it. The top one showed a very pretty blonde woman with shoulder length hair and lip fillers, just Orton's type. The only problem was this was a very familiar woman, pictured wearing a police uniform.

"Holy shit. That's Amanda Rose," he breathed.

"They all are," Purrazzo said, meaning the second pile of photos.

And so they were, Halstead saw as he flicked through them. It looked like Orton had printed out every picture Rose had posted on social media. There were also some that he must have taken himself. He had been following her.

"How did he even know about Rose? This makes no sense," Purrazzo said.

"I can answer that. She was on the scene for one of the first bodies that were found. He must have been there too, watching. Looks like Rose was a dream come true for him. Thank God we arrested him before he tried anything with her."

"Are we going to tell her about it?"

"Tell who about what?" Atwater asked from the doorway. Rose was standing right behind him.

Halstead knew this was going to be uncomfortable for Rose, but the way he figured it she had a right to know. Besides, Orton's apparent infatuation with her could possibly be of use to them in obtaining a confession from him.

"Orton's definitely our guy," he said. "There are a lot of photos of victims here. It looks like they were taken in the back of the van we arrested him in. There are also a bunch of other pictures here. There's no easy way to say this. Rose, they're of you."

"Me?" she cried, pushing past Atwater and walking over to see the pictures. "Why would the bastard have pictures of me?"

"Because you're exactly his type," Atwater said. "Also, and I say this intending it not to be inappropriate, because you're a beautiful woman."

"My guess is he was at or around that crime scene that morning when we first met," Halstead said to her. "I think he saw you there and latched on to you."

"But he killed more hookers after that," Rose said.

"As chilling as it sounds, I think maybe he was working himself up to you," Purrazzo said, impressing Halstead with her insight. He was thinking the same thing.

"So you're saying you think I might have been next? Well, shit, that'll help me sleep tonight."

"I know it's scary," Atwater said, putting a comforting hand on his understudy's arm. "But with these pictures, we're on the way to putting the guy behind bars for life."

"Actually, Rose, you might be able to help with that," Halstead said.

"How?" she demanded.

"By sitting in on the interrogation."

Purrazzo looked at him like he was betraying her. But this wasn't about who got the best jobs to do during the trial period, this was about getting a confession from a serial killer. In any case, he would make sure Purrazzo got her fair share of action before the month was over.

"Alright, if that's what you need, I'll do it," Rose decided bravely.

* * *

"Wow, that was something," Purrazzo said. She and Halstead had just gotten back into their car after concluding the search of the house. The only notable evidence they had found was the photographs. It was likely that the van would produce DNA evidence too, so the case was starting to come together.

As Halstead started the car, his phone rang. Taking it out of his pocket, he saw Olinsky's name on the screen.

"Halstead."

"Jay, the coroner's office have just been on the phone. They've recovered evidence from one of the bodies. Either you or Atwater get over there, speak to the coroner, find out what he's got."

"Purrazzo and I will go. Atwater and Rose are on the way back to the station. They've got plenty to brief you on."

"Understood," Olinsky said, and the call ended.

"Where are we going?" Purrazzo asked.

"The coroner's office. Apparently they've recovered evidence from one of the bodies. I'm going to guess you haven't been in an autopsy room before?"

"No, I haven't."

"Then let's go and get you that experience."

* * *

The coroner was a bald man in his fifties by the name of Steve Austin. He led Halstead and Purrazzo into the autopsy room, where a petite blonde woman lay on the middle of the three tables. The other two were empty.

"What have you got for us?" Halstead asked.

Austin walked over to the body, with his visitors in tow. "A couple of things that should help you make a case. This is the second of today's victims. As I understand it, this is the one the guy you arrested was near to when you arrived in the scene. She was found naked, like the others. Strangulation is obviously the cause of death. What's different about this one is I found semen splashed all over the chest. It got there after the victim was deceased, my guess would be at the crime scene."

"He masturbated over the body after dumping it?" Purrazzo asked, wrinkling her face up in disgust.

"Either that or he returned to it to masturbate over it," Halstead said. "Either way, it gives us DNA evidence."

"Yes, I'll get the results to you as soon as I have them. There's another difference between this one and the other victims. This one was bound and gagged before she was strangled. You can see the damage to the wrists and ankles from some kind of rope or string, and there are traces of adhesive from some kind of tape around the face."

"So he held her captive. Maybe he was waiting for the park to be empty of police before he killed her?" Halstead speculated.

"Looks that way. The bruising on the wrists shows a fairly clear pattern of the rope or string, and it looks quite unique to me," Austin said. "If you could find a piece of it, I could match it to these wounds."

"We've just been and searched the house. We could do a follow up search and look for any rope or string that didn't jump out to us the first time. We'll get on that. Anything else we need to know?"

"I don't think so. As I said, the cause of death is the same as before, strangulation by a strong man using his hands."

"Thanks. We'll be in touch if we find anything that might be of use."

With that, Halstead and Purrazzo left the room and showed themselves out of the building.

"It feels like we're getting somewhere with this now," Purrazzo said once they were outside.

"Yes, it does. Providing the DNA checks out, we've got the son of a bitch. I think his obsession with Rose threw him off his game. When she came on the scene, his game plan changed and he started making mistakes."

"Luckily for us. And luckily for Rose."

Halstead nodded. "Right. This thing could have gone a hell of a lot differently if that news helicopters hadn't shown up. It's remarkable how you get a break in a case sometimes."

"That must be where the phrase 'it's better to be lucky than good' comes from," Purrazzo said.

Halstead looked at her and raised his eyebrows. "You just worry about being good."


	16. Chapter 16

After his shift, Jay had decided to go back to the hospital to sit with Erin for a while. The other members of the team, with the exception of Ruzek, had expressed an interest in going too, but he had managed to put them off by saying Erin would likely be asleep or very tired. His counter suggestion had been for those who wanted to see her to go the next morning, and they had agreed, asking him to pass on their best wishes.

Personally, Jay was glad things had gone his way. He wasn't going to see Erin as a part of the team she managed, he was going as her lover. That was why he had stopped to buy some fresh fruit and a few magazines. The concussion headache might not allow her to read, but at least she would have the option if she wanted it.

When he arrived at the ER, he found Erin's room occupied by someone else. He spoke to a nurse, who told him that she had been moved to a room elsewhere in order to free up the ER bed. Directions were provided, and Jay soon found the room in question.

The door had been left open, and as he walked in, Jay was greeted with an encouraging sight. Erin was sitting up in the bed, sipping from a plastic cup of water. The bruising around her head injury and her swollen eye had continued to come out during the day, and it looked absolutely horrid. However, she was able to manage a smile when she saw him.

"Hey," she said, still sounding a little groggy.

"Hey, Erin. I'm glad you're awake. How are you feeling?" He walked over and stood next to her bed.

"My face feels like it's been bashed in. I still have a headache, but it's not as bad as earlier, probably because of whatever they're giving me. My memory of what happened hasn't returned. Maybe it never will? And I feel sick, which I guess is thanks to the concussion."

"But other than that you're okay?" he joked.

Erin was able to laugh, but it looked like it hurt her to do so. "Don't, Jay. What are you holding there?"

"Oh, I brought you some grapes and oranges, and a bunch of magazines. I didn't know which ones you'd like so I just grabbed some," Jay explained as he unpacked his purchases and put them on the overbed table that was currently positioned over the middle of the bed.

"Thank you, Jay, that's very thoughtful of you. I'm hoping I might be able to get out of here tomorrow and continue my recovery at home. The doctor gave me a doubtful 'we'll see' when I asked him. Anyway, take my mind off the boredom. What has the son of a bitch who brained me had to say for himself?"

Jay sat down on the chair next to her bed. "Nothing. He hasn't said a word yet, not even a 'no comment'. But there have been quite a few developments. I'd better start at the beginning. Olinsky had me, Purrazzo, Atwater and Rose go over to search Orton's house. That's the guy's name by the way: Randy Orton."

"Did you find anything interesting?"

"You could say that. Orton had a desk in one of the bedrooms. On it, Purrazzo found a crap load of photos. The first lot I looked at were of some of the victims. Maybe all of the victims, once we've gone through them in detail. They showed the victims naked, after death, in the back of that van we pursued him in."

"Well, that's good evidence," Erin said, trying to put a positive spin on it.

"Yeah, but then it got really weird. The other stack of photos were all of Amanda Rose."

Erin studied him for a moment with her one good eye, obviously wondering if her concussion or the drugs she was on had made her hear him wrong. "What?"

"Yeah. He had a load of pictures of Rose. Looked like he had printed out her social media posts, and he had been following her and taking pictures of her too. As scary as it is, it looks like she might have been his next intended victim."

"That's terrifying. Thank God we apprehended him before he had a chance to try that."

Jay proceeded to tell her about the visit to the coroner's office, passing on everything Austin had told them regarding his discoveries.

"Wow, he totally went of the rails when Rose came into the picture," Erin said after taking another sip of her water. "His obsession with her may well have saved lives. I want you to put her in the interrogation. You go in with her."

"Ruze has been leading it," Jay said. He didn't want to take the role over, as it didn't same right to do so. Thankfully, Erin agreed.

"Okay, leave him to lead it. But put Rose in there. Even if she doesn't say anything, safe to say her presence there will rattle him."

Jay nodded. "Yes, I thought the same. I pitched it to Rose, and she's up for it."

"That's good." Erin then became more hesitant. "Jay, there's something I need to talk to you about. It's about work, but I need to speak to you about it personally, not professionally."

"Okay, sure," he said openly.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking today, in between sleeping. "The first thing is, I could have been killed today. The reason is I'm rusty at the kind of work Intelligence do. Counter-terrorism for the FBI sounds like an action-packed assignment, but it's actually pretty much a desk job a lot of the time. I'm rusty, and I need to work on that."

Jay knew there was no point arguing with her. Erin was more than smart enough to recognise her own weaknesses. What he needed to do was support her in overcoming them.

"When you're fully recovered, put yourself in for some training," he suggested."

"Yes, I think I will. It's hard to admit to not being up to the job. And that brings me to the second thing I've been thinking about. Was deciding to bring Kim Burgess back a mistake? She saved my life this morning. I can't stop thinking about that. Out of everyone called that scene, she was the quickest one to get to me. I'm asking you as your girlfriend, Jay. Did I make a bad decision?"

"Okay, I'm answering as your boyfriend. I'm sorry, but, yes, you did make a bad decision," he said, striking a balance between an understanding tone and one that had conviction in it. "I guess I can understand your point that having a kid might change some people, making them go soft or whatever. And I can understand why you wouldn't want someone like that in an elite unit like Intelligence. But Burgess? No way. She's one of the best at the 21st, and I can promise you she hasn't lost a step. Also don't disregard the fact that she got five years of experience on the job while you were away. In my opinion she still more than merits a place in Intelligence. I'd trust her with my life in any situation."

Erin sighed and sipped her water. Jay knew that she had done the hard part. Starting to climb down from a firm position was tough. Now that she had started, she would likely follow through.

"So, what do I do?" she groaned eventually. "I already promised Rose and Purrazzo that one of them would get that job. It wouldn't be right to go back on that now."

"You promised them a job. It doesn't have to be Kim's job," Jay pointed out. "If you wanted, you could take one of them on and bring Kim back too. It might work out better if you did, thinking about it. For example, let's say Purrazzo got the job. I could be partnered with her. You could put Kim with Atwater, and Ruze with Olinsky. That's three partnerships on the team, plus you and Vega to fill in wherever you like or wherever needed. Sounds like a good dynamic to me, assuming there's the budget for it."

"There is the budget for it. They promised me more money when I took the job. What you say makes sense, so the only problem I have is how do I bring Kim back without looking like a weak leader?"

Jay reached out and took her hand. "Changing your mind on a wrong decision doesn't show weakness. If anything it shows the opposite. I can pretty much guarantee it would earn you respect from the team, as well as getting Ruze back onside. It's the right move to make, Erin."

"You're probably right. I'll think on it some more."

Deciding not to press the issue any further, Jay allowed the conversation to move away from work. He was soon thankful that it had, for chatting to Erin solely as his girlfriend made him happy. Happiness wasn't something he had known much of in recent years, so he fully intended to savour it now that he had it.

It seemed like no time at all had elapsed when a young nurse came into the room. Despite her age and her friendly face, she showed that she could be firm if needed.

"I'm sorry, sir, visiting time is over. I have to ask you to leave."

"It's fine, Jay. I think I need to rest," Erin said, giving him a weak-looking smile. "Thank you for coming in, and for bringing me the fruit and magazines. It was very thoughtful of you."

"Of course," he said, squeezing her hand as he got up. "Call me in the morning and let me know how you are. If they decide to discharge you, I'll come and pick you up."

"Thank you," she said again.

Jay leaned over the bed and gave her a peck on the lips. "Sleep well. Hopefully you'll feel better in the morning."

"I hope so. Have a good night."

Sensing growing impatience from the nurse, Jay left the room. He paused just outside the doorway and looked back at Erin for a second, seeing her talking to the nurse. It hit him in that moment how lucky he was to have the woman he loved still with him. If Kim Burgess had shown up a matter of moments later, he would be at the opposite end of the emotional scale. The thought made him shiver, and wish for five minutes alone in a locked room with Randy Orton. But that wasn't going to happen. Realistically, going for drink was the best thing he was actually going to be able to do right now.

* * *

Walking into Molly's Bar, Halstead wasn't surprised to see some familiar faces. It was a regular haunt for the CPD. Seeing Kim Burgess at the bar was perhaps a little surprising, but then he figured Ruzek had gone home to Alex, allowing her a rare chance for a night out after work. Burgess was sitting at the bar with Brett and Mills, the paramedics from Ambulance 84.

"Hi. How are you all doing?" he asked as he approached the group of three. Greetings came his way from all of them, and Mills ordered a beer for him.

"Adam said you'd gone to the hospital. How's Erin?" Burgess asked him as he sat down next to her.

Halstead was surprised by the compassionate tone of the question, considering everything that had happened. His expression must have shown what he was thinking.

"I'm pissed at her, that doesn't mean I want some psycho to murder her," Burgess said.

"Of course," Halstead said, feeling bad for doubting her. "She's better than she was earlier. Headaches, sickness, you know the symptoms of a bad concussion. She has the nastiest black eye I've ever seen. But what really matters is she's going to be fine."

"That's great news. I'm really pleased to hear it," Burgess said sincerely.

Yeah, me too, Halstead thought. And he hoped there would soon be more news that Burgess would be happy to hear.


	17. Chapter 17

Jay Halstead and Deonna Purrazzo stood in the observation room for Interview Room 2. They were watching the second day's interrogation of Randy Orton. Adam Ruzek was still the one asking the questions, but this time he was joined by Amanda Rose, who had shown up for work exceptionally well dressed made up, for the specific reason of appealing to their suspect.

"He still hasn't cracked," Purrazzo said in near disbelief. "Look at him looking at her like a piece of meat. If his hands weren't cuffed to the table I'm sure he'd lunge at her."

Halstead had little doubt she was right. But they were not going to get a conviction for murder based on how Orton looked at a police officer. They needed to break him and get a confession.

"It's time to up the ante," he announced. "You stay here. I'll be back in a minute."

With that, Halstead walked out of the observation room, knocked on the interview room door and opened it. Ruzek, Rose, Orton and Orton's lawyer all looked at him. He motioned with his head for his two colleagues to come and speak to him outside.

Ruzek excused himself, and led Rose out of the interview room. She closed the door behind them.

"What's up?" Ruzek asked.

"Rose, I think it's time you said something, if you're comfortable with it? Doesn't look like he's going to say anything otherwise."

Rose nodded immediately. "I'm up for it. How do you want me to play it?"

"Why don't you start by telling him we found his pictures of you?" Ruzek suggested. "I haven't mentioned that yet, so drop that in. Then you can ask him what he would have done with you. I know it won't be easy to listen to..."

"It's fine," Rose cut in. "If it puts the bastard in a cell for life, I'll do whatever it takes. Once I get him talking, assuming I do, hopefully he'll tell us about the rest of his crimes."

"That's the plan," Halstead confirmed. "I'll let you guys get back to it."

Returning to the observation room, he found Purrazzo waiting eagerly. "You're going to let Rose have at him?"

Her stock went a bit higher with Halstead in that moment. She wasn't simply looking at Rose as a competitor for a spot in Intelligence, and that said a lot about her professionalism. He wasn't going to say that, of course.

"Yeah. Let's see if that gets anything out of him," was all he said.

In the interview room, Ruzek and Rose had sat back down across the table from Orton.

"Randy, you don't seem to want to tell Detective Ruzek anything, so why don't you talk to me?" Rose said. "You could start by telling me why we found a collection of photos of me in your house."

Orton looked like he was going to say something, but he didn't.

"I know you were on my social media. You printed pictures from a couple of different accounts. How did you know who I was?"

"I saw you in the park. You were on duty in uniform, greeting people who arrived to look at the body and sending reporters and the public away. I had seen you from a distance. You looked hot, so I mixed myself in with a group of a few people and ended up standing nearby to get a closer look. One of your colleagues called you Rose. Once I had that information, it wasn't hard to find you online."

"It's frightening how useful the internet is to people like him," Purrazzo commented.

"Sshhh," Halstead said quietly, encouraging her to listen to what was happening in the interview room. At last, they had Orton talking.

"So you found my social media. What happened next?"

"I just couldn't believe how perfect you were."

"I'm your type, huh?" Rose asked. "Pretty, blonde, lip fillers. Is that what you like?"

"Oh yeah," Orton nodded. "But you're different. "Prostitutes are one thing. They might look nice, but you know the kind of things they do for money and how low their morals must be. But you? You would have been another thing."

"You killed them quickly, then?"

"There wasn't much point keeping them around. I was practicing, pretty much."

And there it was. Rose had snuck the question under Orton's radar, and he had just effectively confessed to murdering prostitutes.

"Wow," Purrazzo gasped. "I can't believe he just said that. She's got him."

"Yeah, she has," Halstead said. "I'm pretty confident now that they'll be able to get everything out of him. We've got the son of a bitch. For all of those murders and the attempted murder of Lindsay, he's never going to see the light of day again."

"You're that sure he'll tell us everything now?"

"Not only do I think he'll do it, I think he'll get off on doing it. He'll relive what he did, and he'll fantasise about what he wanted to do to Rose."

"Sick bastard," Purrazzo snarled. "I hope he rots in prison."

* * *

About an hour before the shift was due to end, Halstead's phone rang. He was sitting at his desk, with his phone on the desktop. Erin's name was on the screen.

"It's Lindsay," he announced to Olinsky, whose desk was next to his. He answered the call, deciding it was best to keep things professional since he was in the office. "Halstead."

"Hi, Jay. They're discharging me, at last. Could you come pick me up, please?"

Ordinarily, permission would be required from the boss to leave an hour early. But Lindsay was the boss. "Of course. I can head right over."

"Thanks, Jay. I need to sort my things out, so I'll talk to you when you get here. I'll meet you out front. The fresh air will be nice."

"Okay, I'll be there soon."

Ending the call, Halstead stood up and put on his coat. There were expectant faces looking his way from the rest of the team."

"How is she?" Olinsky asked on everyone's behalf.

"She's being discharged. Wants me to go pick her up and take her home. I assume I'll find out when she's likely to return to work, so I'll either get her to let you know or I'll let you know."

"Alright. She didn't seem too bad when we visited this morning, apart from that nasty bruising," Atwater said.

"Lindsay's as tough as they come," Olinsky said fondly. "The way she has rode out that shot she took from Orton, she must have a skull made of metal, too."

"I'll ask her," Halstead said with a bit of smile. "See you all in the morning."

Farewells followed him to the stairs, and within a couple of minutes he was in his car on the way to the hospital.

* * *

Erin was sitting out front of Chicago Med's main entrance, Jay saw when he drove slowly by, keeping to the low speed limit in the hospital grounds. He would have waved to her, but she was on her phone with someone and not paying attention to the traffic.

Jay pulled into the closest parking lot, and managed to find an empty spot. With that task accomplished, he walked back towards the entrance.

Erin was still sitting on the bench, no longer on the phone. She didn't notice him right away, but when she did, she waved to him and got up.

If anything, her eye looked even worse than the day before. It was still swollen shut, and the bruising was now turning properly black. It would be a while before the serious injury healed up.

"Hey," she said once he was in comfortable earshot.

"Hey," he smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"My face hurts a lot, and I have a headache. The doctor said all I have to do now though is rest, and I can do that in the comfort of my own home."

Jay reached her, and they exchanged a peck on the lips. "Yes, you can," he said. "So long as you make sure you do actually rest," Jay gently warned her. Hew knew full well what Erin was like. Given half a chance, she would start working from home right away.

"I'll be on my best behaviour," she promised.

"Then let's go," Jay said. Somewhat tentatively he offered his hand as they started walking. Happily, Erin took it.

"I can't wait to have a shower and put a dressing gown on. While I'm laid up, I'm going to find some new TV show to binge watch."

"That does sound like a plan. Maybe I'll use up a week of my annual leave and join you."

"Nope, you've got a case to work," Erin said with mock sternness. "Speaking of, how is it going?"

"Putting Rose in the interrogation was what it needed. He was staying silent until she started asking the questions, then he opened right up. They did a few hours today, and we've got full confessions to two murders."

"Yes," Erin said, clenching a fist in celebration, not only of the fact that her first case in charge of Intelligence was going to come to a successful conclusion, but also because the victims and their families were virtually certain to get justice.

"Yeah," he smiled. "Once he started talking, he seems like one of those who gets off on recounting every detail of what he did to his victims. I think he was waiting for us to put Rose in there. Talking to her about it likely turns him on."

Erin considered that for a moment as they approached Jay's car. "As long as she's okay with continuing, have her do the rest of the interviews. If we can get a full confession out of him for everything he's done, he'll die in prison."

"Which is what he deserves."

After they got into the car and Jay had backed out of his parking space, the subject of the conversation changed.

"I was just on the phone to Kim," Erin announced. "I asked her to come over to my place in an hour."

"You're going to bring her back to Intelligence?" Jay asked hopefully.

"I haven't totally decided yet."

* * *

"Come in and have a seat, Kim," Lindsay said, showing her former friend into her living room. Former friend was unfortunately the correct description, she knew.

"Your eye looks a real mess. Can't imagine how much that hurts," Burgess said.

In the living room, Lindsay sat in a chair, leaving Burgess to take a seat on the couch. "It's very painful. But not as painful as what he was about to do when you showed up. You saved my life yesterday morning, so thank you for that."

"Of course," Burgess said. It was clear that she was trying not to sound frosty, but she wasn't quite managing it.

"The way you arrived so quickly on the scene has got me rethinking my decision not to bring you back to Intelligence. Let me explain why I made that decision."

"I know why you made it. You told Adam why you made it. You think the fact that I'm a mom now has taken a crucial edge off my police work; that I'm no longer willing to take the risks that Intelligence sometimes requires."

"Correct," Lindsay said simply, studying every minute detail of Burgess' body language.

"Well that's bullshit, Erin. I would have thought you of all people would know that. We're not strangers. We were colleagues and friends for years. I'm the same cop I was when you left. In fact I'm probably better because I have four years of Intelligence experience under my belt before I left to have Alex. Voight never had any serious complaints about my work."

"No, he didn't," Erin conceded. "These concerns and this decision are mine alone. But I'm now reconsidering. I can see what Intelligence still means to you."

"It means a lot to me," Burgess said passionately. "To be honest, far from worrying about whether I wanted to come back to Intelligence after my maternity leave, my plan was to try and make detective. It still is, even if I have to end up working with a different unit. One way or another, I'm not staying in uniform."

Lindsay was now convinced. Reversing her decision and taking Burgess back was the right thing to do. "You know what Voight said to me when he appealed to me to take charge of Intelligence? He said his biggest wish was to keep it in the family."

"That doesn't surprise me," Burgess said with fondness of her former mentor.

"Having thought about it while I was in hospital, I don't think he only meant me taking charge because I'm his family. I think he meant everyone in the unit is a family, and it should stay that way. It was wrong of me to break that up. Kim, you're welcome back into Intelligence, if you wish to come back."

"Thank you, Erin. I would love to come back," Burgess said happily. "What about the other two, though? You promised my job to one of them."

"I promised a job to one of them, and one of them will get a job, which will make our team complete. The only question is which one."

END

* * *

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who read and supported this story._

_As I'm sure you can tell from the ending, I may do a sequel somewhere down the road. Which leaves me to sign off with a question. In the next story, who would you choose to get the final spot in Intelligence? Would you give it to Amanda Rose? Or would you pick Deonna Purrazzo?_


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: I decided to do a sequel to Keeping It in the Family. Then I thought it would be easier to keep it in the same 'story' on the site so that readers don't need to find and follow a new one. Okay, let's get on with it!_

* * *

**Book Two**

_The Garden of Secrets_

More than a month into the second shot at their relationship, Jay Halstead and Erin Lindsay had been afforded a rare opportunity for a date night. Rare was the right word, for work had been keeping them more than busy, especially Erin, who was still settling into her position in charge of Chicago PD's Intelligence Unit. Late nights, tough cases and hard decisions had been the theme of her honeymoon period as the boss.

For their date, Erin had surprised Jay by asking him to go with her to see an orchestra play. It wasn't the kind of thing he would have expected her to be interested in. But this Erin wasn't the same Erin who had left for New York five years earlier. No, this was a different woman, no less attractive to him in every imaginable way, but still different. Her tastes had changed during her time in New York, as had some of her mannerisms and patterns of speech. The FBI team she had worked with had changed her, as had the company she had kept outside of work. Detective Erin Lindsay was hard for him to remember in some respects, compared to the Sergeant Erin Lindsay that Hank Voight had brought back to Chicago to take over Intelligence when a stroke had forced him to retire.

It was fair to say that the changes in her personal tastes and hobbies had come a result of her dating an older, richer man for over a year. Jay could just imagine the guy showing off his hot, younger girlfriend at orchestras and dinner parties for all of his friends to try and get their dicks hard over, if they were still capable of doing so. But that was just the jealousy in him, he knew. The thought of anyone else dating Erin was all kinds of wrong. But thankfully now all was right in the world in that regard.

"Oh, I love this one. Beautiful," Erin whispered to him when the orchestra began their next piece.

Jay turned to look at her. With her hair and makeup done to perfection and wearing a smart black dress, she absolutely suited the word she herself just used: beautiful.

The music was too, he had to admit, even if classical wasn't a style he would usually listen to. He would have preferred to go and see a band in all honesty, but he could appreciate the talent of the musicians who were performing for him. He did his best to fully indulge the piece for the next five minutes or so. It had been his favourite so far, he concluded.

"Do you know what that was?" he whispered to Erin when it was over. When he looked at her, he was surprised to see tears in her eyes. "You okay?" he asked with concern.

"Yeah, Canon in D – Pachelbel. That piece just always touches me," she whispered back. "I was thinking about Hank. I can't lose him, Jay."

"You won't lose him," Jay assured her gently, giving her hand a squeeze. "He's doing fine since his stroke. You even said retirement is treating him better than you thought it would."

"Yeah," Erin admitted. "I love you, Jay."

"I love you too, Er." He leaned in and kissed her as the orchestra began to play the next piece.

The intermission came next. Jay and Erin decided to stay in their seats.

"How are you liking it?" she asked him happily.

"I'm liking it," he answered after a moment of consideration. "It's not something I'd ordinarily be interested in, but I am enjoying it. Maybe you're converting me."

"Maybe. I'm giving the job to Purrazzo," Erin blurted out.

"Wait, really?" Jay said in surprise.

At Erin's instruction, Intelligence had taken on two promising officers on a month-long trial period, with one of them being promised a job with the unit at the end of the period. Jay had been asked to mentor one candidate, Deonna Purrazzo, while Kevin Atwater had been asked to mentor the other, Amanda Rose. Jay had known the decision was coming any day now, with everyone in Intelligence having already been asked for their opinions on Purrazzo and Rose by Erin. This was the first indication he'd gotten that her decision had been reached.

"Yeah," Erin said. "They're both excellent cops. But I think on balance Purrazzo brings a little more to the table. Not least, she'll be possibly the best shot on the team, which is saying a lot, and she has sniper training. She also has hazmat training. Rose is better at interviews and interrogations, but I feel like we can teach that to Purrazzo easier than we can teach those other skills I mentioned to Rose."

Jay was pleased, and not only because Purrazzo was the one he had mentored. He agreed with Erin's reasoning for her being the better choice. "Well, I think that's good news. Rose has a lot of potential, but I'd have gone with Purrazzo, as you know."

"Do you think the rest of the team will agree?" she asked with a hint of insecurity.

When they were out of work and work was discussed, they were both now used to the fact that they spoke as lovers, not as a boss and her team member. Jay knew that she still had issues with the rocky start she had made to her time in charge of Intelligence, with most members of the team, including him, questioning some of her decisions. He now felt bad about his part in that, but he couldn't go back and change it. What he could do was offer reassurance now.

"Please don't think like that. Intelligence is yours to run now, and you're doing a great job of it. Any doubts people might have had are gone. I think the decision to bring Burgess back made sure of that. If you say Purrazzo gets the job, that's the way it is. All I would say is let Rose down gently. She certainly hasn't got anything to be ashamed of about her performance in this process."

"Oh, absolutely not," Erin agreed. "It was a very tough decision to make. I'm going to tell Rose that if she gets an opportunity with another unit, I'll gladly give her a very good referral."

"When are you going to let them know?"

"Tomorrow morning."

Jay smiled. "I'm really pleased for Purrazzo. She'll do a great job for Intelligence. Can I request to be kept as her partner? We work well together."

"I was going to keep you together anyway," she assured him.

"Alright, sounds great."

* * *

Lindsay arrived in the office a few minutes later than the rest of the team the next morning, as was the boss's prerogative. She entered the Intelligence room with a coffee cup in hand and a business-like expression on her face.

"Purrazzo, Rose, join me in my office," she instructed, walking briskly towards it.

During the trial period, Purrazzo and Rose had been left to share desks with their partners, putting chairs on the wrong side of them. Purrazzo looked at Halstead with a 'I think this is decision time' expression on her face.

"Good luck," he said quietly, giving nothing away to suggest that he already knew what the outcome was going to be.

Purrazzo and Rose followed Lindsay into her office, and Rose closed the door behind.

"Sit down, ladies," Lindsay said, taking her own seat behind her desk and putting her coffee cup down. They did as she instructed, and she got right down to business. "Your trial period is at an end. I have made a decision on which one of you will be joining Intelligence permanently. Before I give you the decision, I want to say that you have both proven yourselves to be excellent officers with a bright future in this job. If I had two spots available on my team, I'd take you both and think myself lucky. Sadly, that's not the situation we're in. Purrazzo, the job is yours."

Purrazzo looked surprised, while Rose looked upset, although she did her best to take the defeat gracefully.

"Congratulations. You'll do a fantastic job," Rose said, giving the woman who had gotten the better of her a squeeze on the shoulder.

"Thank you," Purrazzo smiled. "You will too, wherever you go, trust me. And thank you, Sergeant Lindsay. This means so much to me."

Lindsay simply nodded. "Go back to your desk, Purrazzo. We'll talk again later, and we'll fix you up with a desk of your own."

"Thank you. Thanks again," Purrazzo said excitedly. With that, she hurried out of the office to spread the good news.

"Rose, believe me when I say this was such a close run thing," Lindsay said once the door was closed. "You have no reason to have regrets over this. And if you ever need a referral for another unit, you get on the phone to me."

"Thank you, ma'am," Rose said politely, although she was clearly hurting. "Can I ask what made up your mind to choose Purrazzo over me? I ask so that I might improve."

"In terms of performance, nothing. That's why I'm telling you not to be down on yourself. You were both excellent. The only difference between you is Purrazzo comes to us with hazmat and military training, including the use of sniper rifles. If you had that too, I don't know how I'd have separated you. You'll do great police work somewhere, Rose, sadly not here. But stay in touch, okay?"

Pride now overcame upset for Rose, and she got to her feet with dignity. "Thank you. I will." She offered her hand.

"I'll come out with you," Lindsay said as they shook.

Leaving the office, Rose was approached by every member of the team, all wanting to pass on their best wishes. There was sadness in the air, for no one wanted to see her go.

While the goodbyes were happening, Sergeant Platt walked in, making her way across the room to Lindsay.

"You chose Purrazzo?" Platt asked, quickly reading the room.

"That's right. You have something for me?" Lindsay said over her coffee cup, cutting off any possible unwanted discussion of her decision.

"Yeah, got something that has been brought to us by Child Services. They were referred a case after a child being treated for a fractured arm in hospital told a doctor about a 'family joke'. The joke being that their sister is buried underneath the deck in their garden."

"And they're thinking it might actually be true?" Lindsay asked with some scepticism.

"The parents have been spoken to. They said their eldest daughter left home for a job in New Orleans after leaving school at 17. There are no records anywhere to confirm that she's still alive. No bank account, no cell phone bill, no welfare, nothing. That's why we want to bring you in."

A possible case of parents murdering their child wasn't something Lindsay was going to turn down. "Okay, we'll take the case," she decided.

* * *

_A/N: What do you make of Lindsay's decision to select Purrazzo?_

_What might the team discover when they start working the case?_


	19. Chapter 19

"It looks a bit cramped in here now," Sergeant Lindsay said, standing in her office doorway. She had just watched Jay Halstead and Deonna Purrazzo rearranging the Intelligence Unit room, introducing another desk. There were now three on each side of the centre aisle. On one side were Ruzek, Burgess and Atwater's desks. On the other were now those belonging to Olinsky, Halstead and Purrazzo.

"I've never seen such an easy job made to look such hard work," Zelina Vega commented from her own office doorway. As always seemed to be the case, she had a cup of coffee in her hand.

"You know, you drink so much of that crap you're going to give yourself heart problems," Halstead fired back.

Vega looked at Lindsay. "Did he just refer to coffee as crap? I think that's what he did."

"That's what he did," Purrazzo chipped in from behind Halstead.

He rounded on her, all in good humour. "Judas! We're supposed to be partners."

Purrazzo shrugged. "Sorry, but this is coffee we're talking about. My loyalty only goes so far."

Everyone laughed at the joke, then Lindsay looked at Vega. "She'll need a computer. Get one for her ASAP, will you?"

"I've got one in my office. It came in a couple of days ago while you were out. It needs some work to get it all set up, but I'll have it done for tomorrow."

"Alright, good," Lindsay said.

At that moment, Burgess walked into the room. She and Atwater had been interviewing the father of the child who had told the doctor about the 'family joke' that her sister was buried under the deck in their garden. Burgess must have stepped out to bring them an update, Halstead thought. Olinsky and Ruzek had gone to the hospital to interview the child and speak to Child Services. How that was going remained to be seen.

"What have you got?" Lindsay asked.

"A cool customer," Burgess reported. "Says he might have said something about burying the kids in the garden a time or two to make them behave when they've been naughty, but there was obviously no intention behind it. Also says they haven't heard from the oldest daughter, Carla, since she walked out to go to New Orleans with a friend. He said there was an argument about it because he and his wife didn't want her to go. She went anyway, and has never called or written since."

"That's a bit thin," Purrazzo said, meaning the story had little to no evidence behind it.

"Exactly," Burgess said. "We might want to wait and see what Adam and Al come back with, but I think we have enough to get a warrant to toss their place."

"For a search, maybe," Lindsay said. "It's going to need more before we get permission to start tearing their deck out and digging up the garden. If we did that and found nothing, no doubt they'd sue. I don't the department on my ass for that."

"Well, let's try and get a search warrant and see what we can find in the house," Halstead said. "If we turn up something incriminating, we'd be a lot more likely to get the go ahead on the garden."

"Alright, that's the plan. I'll get us a warrant," Lindsay said, and with that she went into her office and closed the door. Vega also went back into her office, and Burgess left to get back to the interview, leaving only Halstead and Purrazzo in the room.

"I'm going to carry on writing up that last case," Halstead said, going to sit at his desk.

Purrazzo took pride and pleasure in sitting down at her desk, enjoying looking around the room for a moment from her vantage point. Halstead noticed her doing it, but didn't say anything or let on.

"I'll read through the file," she said after a time.

The case file, such as it was at this early stage, was little more than the background info of the family involved. A copy of it had been dropped on her desk by Lindsay.

"John and Jillian Layfield," Purrazzo read. "He's fifty-three, she's forty-four. Three kids – Carla, 22, who allegedly left home at 17, Gemma, 17, and Lisa, 12. I guess she must be the one in the hospital talking about the family joke."

Typing away, Halstead was listening to her while he worked. "What else does it say? Anything interesting?"

"They were investigated and interviewed once by Child Services in a potential child abuse case, largely based on poor school attendance of Gemma. No charges were brought. In fact the case was dropped after the first interviews. Apparently Mr Layfield in particular came across as a humble man and a good parent."

"Maybe there won't be much in this after all then," Halstead said. "One way or the other, I guess we'll find out soon enough.

About ten minutes later, Lindsay came out of her office. "We've got a warrant for the house. When it comes through, the two of you are going to go search the place, and you can take Burgess with you. Atwater can keep Mr Layfield here and prevent him calling ahead to his wife. We don't want her having a chance to go back there and destroy evidence before you arrive."

* * *

With Atwater dragging out the interview with Mr Layfield, Burgess had headed out to the Layfield residence in one car, with Halstead and Purrazzo in another just ahead of her.

"What are we actually looking for here? Just so that I'm clear what to keep my eyes out for," Purrazzo said as they neared the address they had been given.

Halstead reminded himself that she had only done this kind of thing a couple of times. Understandably, she didn't want to overlook something through lack of experience.

"Anything that might hint at child abuse," he said. "If we're going to get the go ahead to rip out their deck and dig up their garden, we're going to need to be able to put something on the table that says 'There you go, this shows they might be abusing their kids. And if that's the case, they might have killed Carla'. Without that, this case is probably a non-starter for Intelligence."

"Got it," she said seriously. "I've never worked on anything to do with child abuse before. I'm not sure I'm comfortable with it."

"You're not supposed to be comfortable with it. Any crime involving child abuse is vile. That's why we work our asses off to put the people who do it behind it."

"I know that. What I meant was I've never... I don't know."

"You're worried about being troubled by what you might see and hear?" Halstead said, now realising what she meant.

"Yes, exactly."

"That can be a problem. Sadly, it's something you get used to over time. This is the street we need," he said, approaching a small intersection. They were in the most unremarkable of upper working class neighbourhoods, not the kind of place you would imagine a child being killed and buried in a garden, not that it was easy to imagine that happening anywhere.

Making a right turn onto Latimer, they cruised slowly, looking for number 45.

"Do you think we'll get much resistance from Mrs Layfield?" Purrazzo asked.

"I doubt it. You sometimes get some mouth from people when you show up with a warrant, but telling them they're going to get themselves arrested usually calms them down. Anyway, I'm sure she's still at the hospital. We're going to have to force entry."

"These are big houses," Purrazzo observed. "I bet it's going to take us a while to search it."

"I was just thinking the same," Halstead said. "We may want to have Sergeant Lindsay come over and give us a hand. I'll give her a call now before we go in."

To that end, he took out his phone and made a call to Lindsay's cell as soon as he parked up in front of number 45. She answered it after only a couple of rings.

"Jay?"

He knew to keep it business-like with Purrazzo sitting next to him. "This house is a big place. We could use more hands."

"Okay," Lindsay said. "I just got off the phone with Al. They've finished talking to Child Services, so I'll send them over to you."

"Alright, thanks," Halstead said, and he hung up. "Olinsky and Ruzek are going to come over and help us," he reported.

"Okay. Here's Burgess," Purrazzo said as their colleague parked up across the street from them. "Shall we go in?"

"Yes. Have you got the warrant?"

"Yeah." She patted her coat pocket to indicate where it was.

"Good, because you're going to serve it if there's anyone home."

"Oh, okay," Purrazzo said with some eagerness. It would be another first for her in her Intelligence career, if it proved to be necessary.

They got out of the car, and Burgess joined them on the sidewalk out front of the house.

"Al and Ruze are coming over to help us out," Halstead announced. "Looking at the size of this place, it would take us a long time to search with three of us."

For a moment, he stood and looked at 45 Latimer. It was a rather sinister but expensive-looking three storey colonial. It probably had a basement, too, he imagined. If so, that gave them four floors to search, plus a garage attached to the side of the house and any outbuildings or sheds out back. Even with five of them, it would take some time to work their way through all of that.

The weather was cloudy, making it quite dark outside, yet no lights could be seen on inside the house.

"Doesn't look like anyone's home. We might have to put the door in," he said.

"Or we could use the key," Burgess said with a hint of amusement, producing a bunch of keys from her pocket.

"Or we could use the key," Halstead grinned.

"Mr Layfield gave them to me. He's actually very cooperative and polite. Come on, let's get on with it."

Burgess led the way up the driveway to the front door. While they walked, they all put on black latex gloves.

Reaching the front door, Burgess unlocked it and stepped inside. "Chicago PD! Anyone home?"

Silence.

"Chicago PD! Anyone home?" Burgess called again.

There was no response.

"Right, where do you want to start?" Halstead said as he walked in behind her, satisfied that there was nobody home. His first impression was of a perfectly ordinary family home. He was in an entrance hallway which looked and smelled clean. The decor was reasonably new. There were definitely no alarm bells going off in his head so far.

"Why don't we all walk through the place together first and see what we've got?" Burgess suggested.

"Good idea," he said.

The trio walked through the ground floor first, comprising a living room, dining room and kitchen. From the kitchen window, they got a view of the garden that was the area of suspicion. There was a deck, as they had already known, and beyond that a fairly long lawn with flowerbeds either side. It was all taken care of with pride by somebody. The Layfields would definitely kick up a storm if it was dug up for no reason.

"Right, up or down?" Purrazzo asked. She was standing just outside the kitchen, by a door that had to lead down to a basement.

"Down," Halstead decided.

Purrazzo opened the door and flipped the light switch that was just inside. A wooden staircase was illuminated. She led the group down it, to discover pretty much nothing. There was a bare concrete floor, a washing machine, a dryer, and a few cardboard boxes containing what at first glance seemed to the generic crap that any household accumulated over time and couldn't quite bring themselves to throw out.

"First floor, then," Burgess said. They followed her up there, finding three bedrooms. At one time there had likely been one for each of the children. Now there were two children's bedrooms, and a rather bland guest bedroom. Again, nothing seemed obviously of concern anywhere.

"A bit odd to have a locked door to the top floor," Halstead said when the time came to go up. He couldn't remember seeing that in any house before.

"The key must be one of these," Burgess said, fiddling with the bunch. Her second guess opened the door, and they headed upstairs. There were three rooms up there, they found. The first was a master bedroom with a big four poster bed in it.

"I've always wanted one of those," Purrazzo said.

"Why don't you get one?" Halstead replied.

She laughed. "Yeah, like it would even fit in my apartment."

"This one's a bathroom," Burgess said, having already moved on.

Halstead walked out onto the landing and into the final room. It was used primarily as a storage room, he saw. There were quite a few cardboard boxes and several stacks of magazines, along with a TV set that had a DVD player and an old VCR machine connected to it. The TV was positioned in front of a couch that could be converted into a bed.

"I call shotgun on not having to go through that lot," Burgess said. "You two can start in here, I'll start in the other bedroom."

Halstead looked at Purrazzo. "You heard her. Looks like we're digging through this stuff."


	20. Chapter 20

"These are pornos," Purrazzo announced. Her first task had been to start going through the stacks of magazines, while Halstead had gone to work on the cardboard boxes. So far, all he had found in them was unmarked VHS tapes.

"Any good?" he asked with a bit of humour.

Purrazzo laughed. "I'm not much of a porn expert, so I'll you be the judge. Oh, this is actually pretty extreme stuff," she added as she flicked through one of the magazines.

"Oh?" He moved over to have a look with her, and she held two pages open for his viewing pleasure, or not. On one page was a photograph of a naked young blonde woman who was elaborately bound to a wooden chair with white ropes. A tick white cloth was tied in her mouth as a gag. On the other page was possibly the same naked woman, tied up lying on her stomach on a bed. The bondage looked painful, which was likely the point.

"It doesn't do much for me," Purrazzo commented.

"No, me either. But I guess it floats Mr Layfield's boat. Or Mrs Layfield's, I guess. Or both. Are there any more like this?"

Purrazzo picked up a big stack of magazines with both hands and dropped them in front of him with a loud thump. "Looks like all of these are."

"Well," Halstead said, looking at the stack. "Looks like someone has a porn addiction."

"And maybe a bondage addiction, too," Purrazzo added. She had opened another magazine, discovering even more graphic images of women in bondage than the first one had contained.

"It's extreme and it's distasteful, but it's not illegal. Let's keep searching."

"I bet all of these boxes are these old VCRs," she said, moving over and opening one. "What are we going to do with these, anyway?"

"We're going to load them into the car and take them back to the station. Who knows, there might be child abuse on some of these. If we find something like that, that's our green light to dig up the garden."

They worked their way through the boxes. VHS tapes, VHS tapes, and more VHS tapes, all in unmarked cardboard sleeves. It was going to be a mission to get them back to the station, Halstead thought. And then Erin was going to have someone go through them all. What a drag that threatened to be.

"Oh, there's something different in this one," Purrazzo said a couple of minutes later.

"What have you got?"

From one of the cardboard boxes, she produced a smaller metal one with a lock on it. She tried to open it, unsurprisingly finding it locked. "Do you think Burgess has a key for this?"

"Kim?" Halstead called out.

Burgess appeared at the doorway in short order. "Yeah? Oh, porn. Lots of porn."

"Yeah, lots of porn. Pretty hardcore bondage porn at that. We've just found that box. Have you got a key that might fit the lock?"

The bunch of keys came out of Burgess's pocket and she flicked through them, looking for one small enough to fit the lock on the box. "No," was her verdict.

"Then we open it another way," Halstead said. He took a multi-purpose utility knife out of his pocket and went to work on the lock with one of the implements. In less than a minute, the lock popped open.

"Nice," Purrazzo said, admiring his handiwork.

As the box opened, Halstead saw what was inside. Polaroid photographs. The ones he initially saw were of an attractive blonde woman, presumably Mrs Layfield. She was naked in all of them, striking various suggestive poses, either standing or on a bed. He took the top few out, intending to hand them to Purrazzo. But then they both saw what was underneath.

"Oh shit," Purrazzo said. They were now looking at pictures of the Layfield children, also naked. All three girls were among the collection as Halstead flicked through them, at various ages. One of them was Carla, who was now missing and possibly buried in the garden.

"That turns my stomach. Why would people have pictures of their kids posing like that?" Purrazzo asked.

"Because they're sexually attracted to them," he answered in a grim voice. "We'll get these back to the station. It'll be good for another interview with Mr Layfield, one with Mrs Layfield, and hopefully a warrant to rip out that deck and start digging. We'll also have to update Child Services. When Olinsky and Ruzek get here, we'll leave them to help Burgess finish the search. This is too important to wait on." As he finished speaking, he got to his feet.

Looking up at him from her position sitting beside the stack of pornographic magazines, Purrazzo still looked a little shocked by what she had just seen. "This is going to be a big case, isn't it?"

"If it turns out they have killed their daughter, yes, it is."

* * *

"Thanks, just put them on my desk," Halstead said to a uniformed officer who had been enlisted to help him and Purrazzo bring the boxes of VHS tapes and the stack of pornographic magazines into the station. There had been several jokes cracked at their expense thanks to the magazines, which hadn't surprised him at all.

Two boxes were dumped on his desk, and that was the last of it all. Both his desk and Purrazzo's were now full.

"This is something else," Zelina Vega said. Having picked up one of the porn magazines, she was having a look through it.

"That kind of thing get your juices flowing, Z?" Lindsay asked with some humour.

"Not really, no," Vega said studiously. "This is pretty graphic."

"Not as graphic as what we found in here," Purrazzo said, offering the metal box to the boss. "Pictures of Mrs Layfield and the kids, we assume, all naked, making sexually suggestive poses."

Lindsay wrinkled her face up in distaste as she took a cursory look in the box. She avoided handling any of the contents, since she wasn't wearing gloves.

"I think it's a safe bet there's porn on some if not all of these video tapes," Halstead said. "Do we even have a VCR to play them?"

"Here, almost certainly not," Lindsay said. "But I'll be able to get hold of one. When we get it, you two are going to have to go through these tapes and see what's on them."

Great, he thought with an internal sigh. "Do you think those pictures will be enough to get us a warrant to rip out the deck and dig up the garden?"

"It had better be. We wanted something that suggested child abuse, and this lot definitely does," Lindsay said, brandishing the box. "I'm going to make some calls, to get us another warrant and to track down a VCR. Z, leave those pornos alone, will you?"

"Sorry," Vega said, quickly putting down the one she had been looking at.

"When Atwater and Burgess get back, they'll be speaking to Mr Layfield again," Lindsay continued. "I'm going to have them bring Mrs Layfield with them if she shows up at the house, otherwise uniforms can track her down and pick her up. You two are going to talk to her," she said, looking at Halstead and Purrazzo.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Halstead got a phone call at his desk to say that Mrs Layfield was in the station, waiting in an interview room to be spoken to. With Mr Layfield also at the station, Child Services were taking care of the two kids.

"Okay, Purrazzo, we're up," he said, rising from his chair.

His partner quickly got up as well. "Do you think maybe I can interview her? I've not done that yet."

"We'll both do it," he decided after a moment of thought. "You can go ahead, and I'll join in with anything else I think of that we need to ask."

"Awesome," Purrazzo said with a smile. "Let's see her explain away having borderline pornographic pictures of her own kids."

"Should be interesting, shouldn't it? Come on, let's get down there."

They walked out of Intelligence, down the steps, and past the station's front desk.

"She's in three," Sergeant Platt called out.

"Thanks," Halstead said, although he already knew. When they reached the interview room, he stopped and looked at Purrazzo. "Okay, you can lead from the start. You need to remind her that she's not under arrest, she can leave at any time, and she can request a lawyer at any time. You also need to inform her that the interview is being recorded on video."

Purrazzo nodded seriously. "Got it."

"After you, then," he said, motioning to the door.

Following her into the room, Halstead saw Jillian Layfield for the first time in person. Having already seen pictures of her naked, it was a slightly awkward moment. She certainly didn't look forty-four. He would have guessed mid thirties if he hadn't known. She was very attractive too, with a notably innocent look about her.

Purrazzo made sure to come across as authoritative, but nonetheless polite. "I'm Officer Purrazzo, this is Detective Halstead," she said as she sat down opposite the interviewee. Halstead took a seat next to his partner. Purrazzo went through the introductory process that he had reminded her of.

"Will this take long? I'm not too happy about my kids being left with Child Services," Jillian said. Her tone was pleasant enough.

"I think that depends on you, Jillian," Purrazzo said. "The quicker we get our questions answered, the quicker you'll be on your way."

"Alright, I know what you're going to ask me about. Lisa said something silly to that doctor this morning about Carla being buried under our deck. I don't know why she would say something so outlandish, or why a doctor would take it seriously."

"Actually I was going to ask how Lisa fractured her arm?" Purrazzo said.

Halstead liked that a lot. She had come across as cool and calm, and hadn't allowed Jillian to determine the direction of the conversation, which she may well have been rehearsing in her head before they arrived.

"Oh. She was in the garden with her sister. They were kicking a soccer ball around and she fell. At least that's the story I got. I didn't see it happen because I was in the house."

The answer seemed convincing. Halstead judged that it was probably true.

"Do your kids hurt themselves often, Jillian?" Purrazzo asked.

Mrs Layfield's posture grew more defensive, unsurprisingly. It wasn't the question Halstead would have gone with, and he considered stepping in. But he decided to let it play out.

"What are you implying?" Jillian demanded.

"I'm not implying anything. I'm merely commenting on the fact that Child Services previously investigated you due to your daughter Gemma's poor school attendance. I assume there was a reason she missed so much school time?"

"Yes, there was," Jillian said icily. "Gemma had a lot of issues with sore throats and ear aches when she was younger. Look, Officer Pirrazzo, I've been to the hospital today, worried about my Lisa. Then I went home to find your people wrecking the place. My husband has been here all day, and now I've been brought in too. I think it's time we stopped being stupid. John and I don't neglect or abuse our kids, period."

"It's Purrazzo," she corrected calmly. "And I'd like to believe what you've just told me was true. Here's the thing: We found photographs of your daughters, naked, in various sexually suggestive poses."

If Mrs Layfield was surprised or horrified, she didn't show it. "I don't know anything about that. I've not taken or seen any pictures like that. I've never harmed my kids. Carla moved away to New Orleans, like I've already told your officers and Child Services. This is a waste of time, so if you want to take this any further I want my lawyer."

Purrazzo looked at Halstead to see what he wanted to say or do.

"That'll do for now, Mrs Layfield," he decided. "You can go home. Make sure you stay there because we might want to speak to you again."

Mrs Layfield wasted no time in leaving the interview room. Purrazzo walked her out to the front entrance, then came back to join Halstead, who had waited for her by the interview room.

"I'm surprised you let her go so soon," Purrazzo said.

"No need to keep her around. An interview doesn't have to be long to bear fruit," he replied. "We got what we wanted to get from it, plus she was going to lawyer up. We'd have waited at least an hour for him to show up, only to tell her not to say anything more. What matters is she sat there trying to look all innocent, but she definitely knew about those pictures. Her and her husband like taking pictures of naked kids, apparently finding it sexually attractive. Who's to say they haven't taken things further than that? I think it's possible that one of them assaulted Carla, then for some reason ended up killing her afterwards. I think it's very possible the 'family joke' is no joke at all, and that poor girl may be buried in the garden. To me, it seems like we've got enough to get a warrant and find out."


	21. Chapter 21

Jay walked into his living room carrying a bottle of beer for himself and a glass of wine for Erin.

"Thank you," she said, taking it from him and cuddling up to him when he sat down. "I need to hurry up and find a nicer place to move into so I can have you over sometimes."

"You could have me over to your place now," he replied with an easy smile.

"No. It's a hole. The sooner I get out of there the better."

Jay knew better than to make an offer of moving in with him. It was too soon for him, let alone for Erin, who he knew to be very independent. The right thing to do was to offer to help her find a place. So that was what he did. "I could get my laptop and we could look at some places?"

Erin looked at him and smiled. "Thanks, Jay, but not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Tonight I'd rather relax, drink some wine, order in some food, and have some sex."

"Hmmm. I don't think there was anything on that list I have a problem with," Jay said studiously. "It's only the order I think we should talk about."

She raised a coy eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I think we should move the sex up a bit. Like, to the top."

"You've convinced me," Erin said, not even pretending to think about it. She quickly downed her wine, put the empty glass on the coffee table and got up.

Jay took a big hit from his beer bottle and put it on the table. As he got up, Erin hurried through to the bedroom ahead of him. By the time he followed her in there, she was undressing.

"Beautiful, Sergeant Lindsay," he said from the doorway when she was done.

"Enough talk, Halstead. Get over here and make love to me."

And he did. The sex was fiery, great for working out the tensions of a long day, and passionate too. Early in their second relationship, they were already good at satisfying each other's desires.

When it was over, they lay together naked in the bed. Their brows were sweaty, and Erin's hair was messed up. She sighed, totally relaxed.

"I don't know if I can get up again now," she muttered.

"Maybe you won't have to. We can order food and I can bring it in here."

"Now that does sound like a plan."

From the living room there came the sound of a phone ringing. It made Jay cringe. An interruption was the last thing he wanted.

"That's my damn work phone," Erin groaned, getting out of the bed. "I'm going to have to answer it."

The worst part of being the boss, Jay thought. Even when she wasn't on duty, she was on duty. There was no escaping the job. He sat up in the bed. From there he was able to hear her side of the conversation, which began with barely hidden annoyance.

"Lindsay."

"Yes, hello."

"Oh, really?" she asked with considerable surprise.

"He what?" Even more surprise.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

Clearly something significant was going on. Jay was already out of the bed and getting dressed when Erin came back to enlighten him.

"I'm going to have to have a wash and get dressed. We need to get to the station. Mr Layfield just walked in and said he wants to confess to killing his daughter."

"Oh shit!" Jay exclaimed. That certainly wasn't what he had expected to hear. Having their night ruined was annoying, but it was a part of the job that he had gotten used to long ago, and he was able to take it in his stride.

"Yeah, that about covers it. If you want to take off, I'll meet you there. I'll call the rest of the team, too."

They were still doing what they could to avoid their relationship becoming the topic of gossip at the station, and therefore would need to show up separately. Jay arriving first wouldn't be out of the ordinary as he didn't live all that far away.

"Alright, I'll meet you there," he said, and gave Erin a kiss.

"Sorry we couldn't make more of a night of it, Jay."

"I enjoyed what there was of it," he smiled. "I'll meet you at the station. The keys are on the side in the kitchen when you come out."

"Okay, see you soon."

They kissed again, and Jay reluctantly walked away from his beautiful naked girlfriend to go find his shoes. Apparently there was a murderer to go and deal with. That was where his mind needed to be now.

* * *

Upon arriving at the station, Halstead learned from the night duty desk Sergeant that John Layfield and his lawyer were waiting in Interview Room 1.

"Thanks. I'll go through and wait for Lindsay to show up," he replied, knowing full well that she wouldn't be long. He went up to Intelligence and sat at his desk to wait.

A few minutes later, it wasn't Lindsay who was next to show up.

"Hey. Big news, huh?" Deonna Purrazzo said as she walked in. "Man, you got in quick. I thought I'd be first here."

"Yeah, I hadn't started dinner or anything yet, so I came straight here when I got the call," he half lied.

"Same," Purrazzo said, sitting on the edge of her desk rather than behind it. "I had just done a grocery run. Had barely unpacked it when the phone rang, so I came straight out. I could really go for a pizza or something."

"Maybe we'll order something in after the interview. For now, let's get our minds on that," he said, entering mentor mode without even thinking about it.

"Right," she said seriously. "I was surprised when Lindsay called. Why would he confess? I don't understand."

"Well, he was told we got permission to dig up his garden, and he knew the work was going to start tomorrow morning. Seems to me like he knew we were going to find what we were looking for and he wanted to try and get ahead of it."

"So now we take his confession and demand he shows us where the body is, right?"

Halstead nodded. "Exactly."

Lindsay walked in at that moment. Now all business, she continued the pretence that she hadn't seen Halstead since the end of the shift. "Ah, Halstead, Purrazzo, good. I've got Burgess and Atwater coming in, too. Ruzek needs to stay home to look after Alex, and I told Olinsky to take the night off. Since the two of you are here first, you can go start the interview. The rest of us will observe."

Purrazzo got up with the now-familiar eagerness about her. "I know how important this is, but can I do the questioning?"

Lindsay studied Intelligence's newest recruit for a long moment, a stern expression on her face. She looked at Halstead, who nodded slightly to show that he backed his partner, and knew to step in if the interview didn't go as it should.

"Alright, Purrazzo, you can lead. But if Jay steps in, you take a back seat and let him take it forward. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am. Absolutely," Purrazzo quickly confirmed.

"Right, let's go," Lindsay said, promptly turning and leading them out of the room. They parted ways when they reached the interview room, with Lindsay going into the adjacent observation room.

Before heading in, Halstead took a moment to make sure Purrazzo was prepped. "So, the first thing you're going to do is inform him that the interview is being videoed, then confirm he's here to confess to killing his daughter, and you'll refer to her by name. If he says yes, you place him under arrest on suspicion of murder and read him his rights. Got it?"

"Yes," Purrazzo said. "Then we need to know how it happened, and where he buried her."

"Right. After you," he said, motioning towards the door.

Purrazzo led the way into the interview room, and they got their first sight of John Layfield, along with his lawyer. If he hadn't seen a photo of Layfield in the case file, Halstead would have wondered which was which, since both men were smartly dressed in suits.

"I'm Officer Purrazzo, this is Detective Halstead," she announced as she sat down. Halstead sat next to her without saying anything.

The lawyer spoke next. "Shane McMahon, Mr Layfield's lawyer. I have a prepared statement for you." There was no offer of a handshake or anything, he simply produced a sheet of paper and put it on the table in front of them. Neatly written in blue pen and signed at the bottom by Mr Layfield was a confession.

"Where are the other two?" Layfield asked, obviously referring to Atwater and Burgess.

"Not here. So we're interviewing you now," Purrazzo said firmly. Before acknowledging the confession, she informed Mr Layfield that the interview was being recorded on video. Halstead allowed her to read the confession first, since she was leading the interview. Then it was passed to him.

'I, John Bradshaw Layfield, wish to confess to the murder of my daughter Carla Jane Layfield. Carla was killed by strangulation as a result of an argument that tragically turned violent. Carla and myself were alone in the house at the time. My wife, Jillian Faye Layfield, was not present and has no knowledge of this crime. Carla was planning to leave for New Orleans, and I told Jillian she had left. Jillian still believes that to be the truth. I take full responsibility for this unfortunate incident, which never should have happened.'

Finished reading, Halstead put the confession down on the table.

"Well, Mr Layfield, it seems we have a lot to talk about," Purrazzo said.


	22. Chapter 22

"Do you understand your rights as I've just read them to you?" Purrazzo asked.

"Yes," John Layfield said. His demeanour wasn't hostile. If anything, it was at the other end of the scale. Halstead wondered if he actively trying to appear compliant in order to somehow win favour down the line, not that he would succeed in that endeavour.

"Good," Purrazzo said. "Why don't you tell me what happened on the day your daughter died?"

Halstead liked the way she phrased the question, and the non-confrontational tone she used. She made it sound like all they were doing was having a little chat, not discussing the man murdering his own daughter, a crime for which he was now under arrest.

Looking across the table, he studied Layfield. He didn't look like a murderer, but then most of them didn't. What he did look like was the owner of a successful construction company. Although he was currently dressed in a nice suit, Layfield had large hands that had been worked hard during their life. He was a big man too, well over six feet when he was standing, Halstead estimated. And he was well built, too. A poor 17 year old girl would have had no chance of fighting him off when he strangled her, assuming the contents of the written confession were true.

"Where to start?" Layfield asked himself. "Carla was always a rebellious kid, always getting into trouble at school and things like that. Any time we had to discipline her, she hated us for it. She often told us she was going to leave home at the first chance she got. Sure enough, the day came when she walked downstairs with a bunch of stuff in a case one morning and said she was leaving. I happened to be home that morning, and Jillian had taken the other girls to school."

"Do you stay home often in the mornings? I thought construction was an industry where people were out and about early," Purrazzo said.

Shut up and let him talk, Halstead thought, considering taking over already. When an interviewee was volunteering information, even if it might not be true, the correct thing to do was let them go on, potentially incriminating themselves with their own words.

"Sometimes I work half a day or a day from home. There is an admin side of a business to take care of, you know? That's what I was doing that morning."

"Okay, so Carla had a case full of her things and she told you she was leaving. What happened next?"

"I told her there was no way she was leaving home until she was at least eighteen. A huge argument started, and we were both yelling at each other. Then she told me if I made her stay she would find a way to poison her sisters, and how would I like that? When she said that I just saw red. I grabbed her around the throat and started shaking her. The next thing I know, she's gone blue. I realised she wasn't breathing. I tried to revive her, but it was no use. She was dead."

"Why didn't you call an ambulance?" Purrazzo asked.

Good, Halstead thought. A short question, almost but not quite devoid of accusation.

"Because she was dead. If I couldn't revive her, what use was an ambulance going to be fifteen or twenty minutes later? She was dead."

"So what did you do next?" Purrazzo asked.

"I knew Jillian wouldn't be out too much longer, so I took Carla's body out to the shed wrapped in a blanket. I used to have a big shed at the bottom of the garden, it's gone now. No one but me used to go in there so I knew it was a safe place to put her and the case of things she had packed."

"What happened when Jillian came home?" Purrazzo asked.

Halstead sat back and listened. At the moment there was no need for him to contribute anything.

"I told her one of Carla's friends showed up, and after an argument, she left, saying she was moving to New Orleans and wouldn't be coming back."

"And your wife took that at face value?" Purrazzo asked somewhat doubtfully.

Layfield sat back, looking quite relaxed despite the fact that they were discussing him murdering his daughter. "Why wouldn't she? Like I said, Carla had been trouble for a long time, and she had threatened to leave home several times. She was upset, but as far as she knew Carla had gone to New Orleans and left no contact information. What was she going to do about it?"

"But in reality Carla's body was in the shed," Purrazzo said. "How long did you leave her there for?"

"Two days, I think, until the next time I knew Jillian was out for a few hours. Obviously I knew I had to bury her. I didn't want to have to dig a huge, noticeable hole in the garden and start having questions asked, so I realised I was going to have to cut her up."

Halstead noticed the colour drain out of Purrazzo's face, and he was sure Layfield noticed it too. A lot of killers got off on talking about their horrific crimes, particularly if they could get a reaction from the person they were talking to. Halstead reminded himself that this was her first time hearing something so appalling. It wasn't her fault that it turned her stomach. But it did mean he would be best off stepping in to take control of the interview.

"You cut up your own daughter's body?" she asked before he had a chance to speak, clearly appalled.

"Tell us how you did it, and where you did it," Halstead cut in.

"In the house. In the bathtub. I got this big carving knife from the kitchen and used that. First I cut her head off because I knew that's what butchers do to let the blood drain out. I made sure her eyes were closed first though because I couldn't just take a knife to my daughter with her eyes looking at me. I mean, it was the most awful thing I've ever had to do. It makes me shiver now to think about it."

Halstead saw that it was Purrazzo more than Layfield who looked like doing the shivering. She had gone white, looking like she was going to spew at any moment. In a way it surprised him to see such a reaction from a combat veteran. But then he supposed there was a difference between seeing people wounded in battle and the mental image of a man butchering his own daughter with a carving knife.

"You cut her head off. What did you do next?" Halstead asked.

"Like I said, I planned to dig a deep but narrow hole to put her in. But I knew it couldn't be too deep, so I was going to have to take her legs off. That's what I did. I cut and pulled them off. Let me tell you, the sound the joints made when they gave way was horrific."

Halstead noticed Purrazzo turning even paler, and knew full well now that Layfield was talking the way he was in order to get into her head. He considered stopping the interview, but no, not while there was a confession in full flow.

"Carry on," he instructed.

"When I'd finished, I left the four pieces in the tub while blood drained out and I went into the garden to dig the hole. The deck wasn't there then, obviously. I built that a couple of years ago. Before that, there was just lawn all the way up the house wall. I dug the hole and got it ready, then I went back inside, fetched the four body parts and brought them down. Then, when I came to bury them, I discovered that I'd almost dug the hole too small. I could only get her in there by using a spade to push with. But I got it done, covered it all up, and relayed the grass as best I could. By the time Jillian got home I had cleaned the bathroom and washed myself down, ready to give her the story about Carla leaving for New Orleans with her friend."

Not allowing the disgust he felt show, Halstead pressed on. "John, as you know, we're going to be ripping that deck out tomorrow morning, and we're going to start digging. Are you prepared to show us where you buried Carla's body?"

"Yes. Yes I am. I'll show you where she is. I just want to know that Jillian and the girls are going to be okay. She didn't know anything about any of this, so it's not fair if it effects them."

Jillian Layfield was going to be answering a lot of questions, Halstead knew. Right now though, he wasn't going to say that. They needed John to give up the location of the body to make their job a hell of a lot easier. For that reason, he worded his response carefully. "We have your confession. All I can say right now is we're going to need the body to be found as you described it so that we can start corroborating what you've told us."

"Okay. I'll show you where I buried her," Layfield said without further hesitation.

"We're going to end the interview here. Sit tight for a moment, John. I'm sure there are things that Mr McMahon would like to discuss with you while Officer Purrazzo and I step outside."

"Yes, there are," the lawyer said.

The two cops got up and made to leave. They didn't get to the door before Layfield spoke up.

"Make sure Officer Purrazzo comes tomorrow. I like her more than Officer Burgess."

I bet you do, Halstead thought as they left the room, saying nothing. He led the way to the observation room next door where Lindsay was waiting.

"Sorry, I blew that interview, didn't I?" Purrazzo said, her embarrassment and annoyance at herself obvious.

"You did, but that's on me," Lindsay said. "I shouldn't have let you lead it. Someone like him requires more experience, so don't feel bad. I'll get you some more training in interrogation. Now, what do you make of what he told us?"

"It was horrific," Purrazzo breathed. "The most awful stuff I've ever heard."

"I meant do you believe it's true?" Lindsay said with a little bit of an edge to her voice. The edge was meant to be picked up on, telling Purrazzo to sort her head out and focus.

"Right, sorry. I mean, it sounded like it could be true to me. He had enough graphic details of it."

"And do you believe Jillian Layfield knows nothing about what happened?"

Purrazzo considered that for a moment. "No. If someone cut up a body in my bathroom and buried it in my garden, I don't see how I wouldn't know something had gone on."

That answer seemed to please Lindsay a little more, and she nodded. "Tomorrow, Burgess and Atwater will be questioning Jillian Layfield. The two of you will be going with the forensics team to the Layfield house. You're going to make sure we find that body. Purrazzo, if Mr Layfield is going to enjoy unburdening himself to you, which is how it seems to me, we're going to let him do that. Are you good with that?"

Now getting over her reaction in the interview room, Purrazzo somewhat reverted to her military background, standing straight and nodding seriously. "Yes, ma'am. I'm good with that."

It's going to be quite a morning, Halstead thought.


	23. Chapter 23

"We've picked a good day for it," Halstead said sarcastically. Standing outside the Layfield house, he zipped his coat all the way up in an attempt to keep out the persistent nasty drizzle. It was cold, too. What better weather to stand around while a forensics team dug up a garden all day?

"You could have at least dressed for it," Purrazzo quipped at him as she walked around their car to join him on the sidewalk. She was wearing a waterproof coat, unlike him, leather gloves, unlike him, and a hat, unlike him. "I mean, what were you thinking?"

Not much. Erin and I were rushing to get to work after having sex in the shower, he thought. Obviously he wasn't going to say that. "I don't mind a bit of rain," he went with, trying to play it cool.

Purrazzo slightly raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Another car pulled up. Sergeant Lindsay got out of the driver's door, and Alvin Olinsky got out of the back. Between them they helped John Layfield out of the back of the car. He looked a humble figure, with his hands cuffed in front if him. Halstead felt pretty sure the humble look was deliberate, not natural. He still believed there was more lie than truth in Layfield's confession. He certainly didn't buy Jillian Layfield knowing nothing about her daughter's death.

"Okay, John, we're going to go through to the garden and you're going to direct us to where Carla's body is buried," Lindsay reminded the self-confessed murderer.

"Yes, I'll show you where she is," Layfield said with resignation.

"The forensics team and the pathologist will be here shortly. Everyone follow us through to the garden," Lindsay said to her people. She too wasn't dressed for the weather, but she would likely be heading back to the station in a few minutes anyway.

Halstead entered the house behind Olinsky, who unlocked the front door, Lindsay, and Layfield. Purrazzo came last. No one had bothered to speak to the uniformed officer who had stood guard all night at the property.

"It's not right for this house to be empty. This is our home. I want to see my wife and my kids," Layfield said, suddenly sounding angry and upset.

"Let's worry about your daughter's body first, John," Lindsay said. "Once you've shown good faith and we've found her, maybe I'll be able to arrange for you to see your wife. The kids are with Child Services, so that's out of the question."

Layfield said nothing as Olinsky unlocked the French doors and led the group back out into the rain.

"Right, John. It's true that Carla's body is under the deck, right?" Lindsay asked.

"Yes. Like I told you, the deck was built afterwards."

"So what I'm going to have you do is indicate where the body is, and Detective Olinsky is going to mark the location on the side of the house with that can of spray paint he's got. We'll have to rip the deck out and then dig."

"I understand," Layfield said.

"Seems more upset about the deck than his daughter," Purrazzo muttered to Halstead.

Somehow, even though he was a good distance away and hadn't been looking at them, Layfield turned as if he knew she had said something.

"What's that, Officer Purrazzo?"

Not one to back down from a confrontation, either due to her military background or her Italian heritage, she fired back and told him before her training told her that it might be a more professional idea to be quiet. "I said you seem more worried about the deck than your daughter."

"That's not a very nice thing to say, is it?"

Watching on, Halstead saw a steely cold look in Layfield's eyes. It was easy to imagine poor young Carla seeing something similar before she met her end. Layfield was a killer alright, and if the chance had been there, which of course it wasn't, he may have gone for Purrazzo in that moment.

"Never mind Officer Purrazzo. You're here to show us where Carla's body is," Lindsay said sternly.

Halstead could tell what was happening. Layfield had enjoyed the way Purrazzo had reacted to his description of how he had murdered his daughter. He wanted to continue getting off on upsetting her if he could, relishing having some control over someone even while under arrest. It was behaviour that Halstead had seen before. In his opinion the best thing to do would be to put Purrazzo front and centre and let Layfield have at it, for the simple reason of encouraging him to incriminate himself. But that was Lindsay's decision to make. So far, she had not done so.

"I sit out here all the time, talking to Carla," Layfield said to Lindsay, his humble demeanour returning. "I sit in that chair there. It's pretty much right above where she is."

"This one?" Olinsky said, standing next to one of two wooden garden chairs on the deck, both with cushions on the seats.

"Yes. She's under there. I can feel her out here sometimes."

"Mark it," Lindsay ordered Olinsky, ignoring Layfield's bizarre comment. Being ignored seemed to get under his skin.

"Officer Purrazzo understands, don't you? You understand about spirits."

Everyone looked at the youngest member of the Intelligence team to see how she would respond to the strange question.

"I believe in spirits, yes. How did you know?" Purrazzo asked as Olinsky sprayed an X on the house wall behind where the chair had been before he had moved it out of the way.

"I know," was all Layfield was prepared to say.

Lindsay looked sceptical to say the least, obviously regarding what she was hearing as nonsense. "Any other spirits you went to tell us about, John? Any other bodies in the garden we should know about?"

"That's a strange question, Sergeant Lindsay. No, there are no more bodies. Why would there be?"

At that moment the forensics team arrived. Three well-built men were there to do the manual labour, including ripping out the deck. It didn't take much of Halstead's instinct to figure out that the woman who was with them had to be the pathologist.

As was her right, Lindsay stepped forward first. "I'm Sergeant Lindsay. I'll be leaving Detective Halstead and Officer Purrazzo here. If they can be of any assistance, they're at your service."

"Dr Natalie Manning," the pathologist announced as handshakes were exchanged. "You have a location for us to work on?"

"Right here, just by the house wall in line with this mark," Olinsky said.

Manning addressed Lindsay. "We'll get the deck ripped out, then we'll put a tent up to cover the excavation site to keep the rain off. I doubt we'll need your officers for anything other than feeding back anything we discover to you, so one will do. Not that I mean to tell you your job."

"No, that's fine," Lindsay said easily. "Purrazzo, you look more prepared for it. You stay here, the rest of us will go back to the station and work the case. The minute something is discovered, get on the phone."

"Enjoy," Halstead quipped to his partner, happy for his reprieve from the weather.

"Yes, enjoy, Officer Purrazzo," Layfield said with a gleam in his eyes.

"Shut up and move," Lindsay told him impatiently. "If you've got something to say you can say it back at the station. We've got all day."

With that everyone from Intelligence apart from Purrazzo left to go back to the station. Standing there in the cold and the rain, she cursed the assignment she had been given. But then it wasn't exactly a surprise to her. She was the new recruit. Of course she was going to get all the crap duties. But that didn't mean she was an idiot. Once Sergeant Lindsay and the rest of the team were safely out of the way, she approached Dr Manning.

"I'll be in the house. Let me know when you've got the tent up."

"Will do," Manning said.

It ended up taking an hour before the summons came. While waiting, Purrazzo had found herself thinking that although it was cold in the empty house, it wasn't as cold as outside, and obviously she was out of the rain. She had to be grateful for small mercies.

She had spent some time walking around the house, wondering what secrets it was keeping for John and Jillian Layfield. Poor Carla had been strangled and butchered in this house. Who could imagine something so barbaric happening in a seemingly ordinary family home? The only area that made Purrazzo feel uneasy was the basement. Going down there, she felt something creepy about the atmosphere, although she could see nothing out of the ordinary at all.

"Officer Purrazzo?" It was a man's voice, presumably one of the men from the forensics team.

"Yeah," she called back, hurrying up the wooden stairs.

Sure enough, one of the forensics guys was standing in the kitchen. "The tent is up. We're about to start digging, if you want to come and observe?"

Not really, she thought. Seeing the dismembered remains of a seventeen year old girl's body being exhumed wasn't something she wanted any part of. But it was what Lindsay had assigned her to do, so she would do it.

The exhumation process was painfully slow, Purrazzo soon learned. Inside the cold white tent, the three men worked seemingly inch by inch, exercising extreme caution in case they stumbled upon Carla Layfield's remains. They couldn't risk causing any damage to whatever they might find.

On and on the day dragged, hour after hour. Purrazzo had hoped it might be over quickly, but there was no such luck. The only good thing had been Dr Manning sending one of the men on a coffee run a couple of times. Hot drinks were needed by all to try and fight off the cold.

"Got something here," one of the men announced eventually. By then there was a hole several feet square and as many deep inside the large tent. The bottom of the hole was wet, sloppy mud thanks to the amount of groundwater from the rain.

The delicate digging process continued while Dr Manning pulled on thick black rubber gloves, ready to handle what was being unearthed by her team.

From where she was standing, Purrazzo couldn't see much of what was going on. She had to listen to the conversations between the team to keep up with the discoveries. Three bones had been found, she learned, and Manning stopped the dig while she analysed what had been unearthed so far. Then she turned and looked up at Purrazzo.

"Officer Purrazzo, did Mr Layfield mention his daughter having three legs?"

"Excuse me?" Purrazzo asked, raising her eyebrows.

"We've found three thigh bones. So either Carla Layfield had three legs, or there are two bodies here."


	24. Chapter 24

"Three thigh bones?" Erin Lindsay asked with surprise. Sitting at her desk in her office, she was on the phone with Deonna Purrazzo, Jay Halstead assumed, overhearing from his desk. Three thigh bones was huge surprise. The forensics team had found not one body, but two.

"Very well, Purrazzo. Looks like it's time for another chat with Mr Layfield," Lindsay said in the office. A moment later she walked out into the main Intelligence room, having ended the call. Halstead, Olinsky and Ruzek were the only ones there. Burgess and Atwater were currently in an interview with Jillian Layfield.

"That was Purrazzo on the phone," Lindsay announced. "The forensics team have found three bones so far. They're all thigh bones, so we have two bodies on our hands."

"Carla's friend," was Olinsky's immediate guess based on the story they had gotten from Layfield regarding his daughter's murder.

"Quite possibly. The first thing we need is an amendment to the warrant to dig up the rest of that garden. If there are two bodies there, it's possible there are more. And we need to speak to John Layfield again. Al, you and I will handle that."

Halstead wasn't surprised at all that now that the case was getting so serious the sergeant wanted to handle the interview personally, and have her most experienced man with her. At least he would be able to observe.

"I also need to update Child Services, and they're going to have to break the news to the girls that we've found their sister's body," Lindsay said. "Although I guess they already know, or at least suspect she's dead. That's how we came onto this case to begin with after all. I want the oldest surviving daughter, Gemma, interviewed. Jay, you're going to handle that, and you can take Kim with you when she's finished with Jillian since Purrazzo is going to be at the house all day."

"Anything you want me to do, boss?" Ruzek said a little pointedly. Being left out or assigned duties last was something of a recurring theme for him since Lindsay had taken charge of the unit and they had butted heads over the reinstatement of Burgess. He had gotten the outcome he had wanted on that, but still resided in the boss's bad books as a result.

"Uh, yeah. Get over to the Layfield's address and start talking to the neighbours. Let's find out what kind of people they appear to be to those around them. I want work colleagues spoken to as well."

"Got it," Ruzek said, rising from his chair.

* * *

Half an hour later, Halstead watched Sergeant Lindsay lead Olinsky into an interview room. John Layfield and his lawyer were already sitting at the table.

"Look how relaxed he looks," Kim Burgess said. She was standing next to Halstead, both watching proceedings through the two-way mirror.

"I bet he won't in a minute," Halstead said, knowing that Lindsay was about to drop the bomb that they had found a second body. "How did you get on with Jillian?"

"We didn't, really. She's continuing to flatly deny knowing anything about any kind of crime happening at her house. That's not going to fly forever though, especially now this has come out."

Indeed, Halstead thought.

In the interview room, Lindsay was going through the formalities of introducing herself and Olinsky for the benefit of the video recording of the interview. She then reminded Layfield that he was under arrest, and of his rights.

"Now, John, we've made a discovery in your garden. We have located human bones in the location you indicated on our visit there this morning. Specifically, we have found three thigh bones. That means there are at least two bodies in that garden. Because of that discovery we're going to dig up every single inch of it, so if there's anything you want to tell me, now is going to be your best time to do it."

Layfield looked a bit rattled, and glanced at his lawyer, Shane McMahon. The lawyer needed no further prompting to jump in.

"I think I should confer with my client, Sergeant Lindsay."

The request was hardly unexpected, and Lindsay took it in her stride. "Very well, you can confer in private in Mr Layfield's cell. I'll have you escorted there shortly."

"What do you think he's going to say?" Burgess asked Halstead next door.

"He's going to confess to another murder, and probably insist that his wife knew nothing about it again. Protecting her seems to be his top priority."

"It seems to be hers, too. And you know what that tells me?"

Halstead nodded. "She's in this up to her ass."

"Yep. But we need some kind of evidence of that."

"Yes, we do," Halstead agreed. And so far they had none.

* * *

After the break up of the interview, the Intelligence members had gone back to their department while Layfield was taken to speak with his lawyer.

Halstead had expected Lindsay to get a phone call when the interview was ready to resume, so it was a surprise when Sergeant Platt walked into Intelligence with McMahon in tow. The lawyer had a sheet of paper in his hand.

At that particular moment Zelina Vega happened to be standing in Lindsay's office doorway, in conversation with her. She noticed the arrivals and passed on the news. "Sergeant Platt's here with a visitor."

Lindsay emerged in seconds, obviously recognising the visitor who had been a mystery to Vega. "Mr McMahon. You have something for me?"

"I do," the lawyer said simply, offering the sheet of paper.

Lindsay took it and read it aloud for those in the room, namely Halstead, Olinsky and Vega. "I, John Bradshaw Layfield, wish to confess to a further approx. eight killings, all of which took place at my home, 45 Latimer Road, without my wife's knowledge. The bodies of all eight victims were buried in the garden, also without my wife's knowledge. I am prepared to reveal the locations of these bodies and to give details of these killings to Chicago Police Department's Officer Purrazzo at Sergeant Lindsay's convenience."

Holy shit, Halstead thought. Eight more killings as well as Carla Layfield. John Layfield had killed nine people, at least according to the confession. Personally, Halstead found the constant pushing of the 'my wife knew nothing' narrative to be highly suspicious. He could imagine pretty much the reverse actually being true, with Jillian Layfield killing people and using her gullible husband to get rid of the evidence and take the fall if it ever unravelled on them, as it was now.

"Why Officer Purrazzo?" Lindsay demanded. "It's not exactly conventional for a suspect to pick and choose who interrogates them."

McMahon shrugged. "I took the statement, I didn't decide the content of it. Mr Layfield feels comfortable talking to a female officer, and he prefers Officer Purrazzo over you or Officer Burgess. His position is that he'll either tell everything to Purrazzo or he'll answer no comment to all questions."

"And I suppose you're going to tell me this has nothing to do with Purrazzo being the youngest and the prettiest member of the team? I've encountered Layfield's type before, Mr McMahon."

I don't know about prettiest, Halstead thought, eyeing up his girlfriend from across the room. But he could understand the point. Layfield was likely attracted to Purrazzo, which would have made it even more of a turn on when his graphic descriptions had gotten under her skin. He wanted that thrill again. And they were probably going to have to give it to him in exchange for details of his crimes. That was how people like Layfield worked – they got their own way or they didn't co-operate.

"Again, regardless of what I might think about it, my client's position is that he is willing to talk to Officer Purrazzo. Should I tell him that's going to happen or not?"

Lindsay looked sour about it, but likely went through the same process as Halstead, he imagined.

"Alright, fine, I'll get Purrazzo back here, and she will interview Layfield, along with Detective Halstead."

"I'll get back to my client," McMahon said, and Sergeant Platt led the way.

"Al, would you head over to the house, relieve Purrazzo and keep an eye on the forensics work?" Lindsay asked, although it wasn't really a question.

"Sure," Olinsky said, getting up and taking his coat off the back of his chair.

"Jay, a word," Lindsay said, promptly heading back into her office.

Halstead followed her in there and closed the door.

"To be clear, I don't want Purrazzo leading this interrogation process," she said as they both sat down at her desk. "I think it's too big for her. I never should have let her into that first interview she did. Now he's seen her weaknesses, that son of a bitch Layfield isn't going to talk to anyone else. He wants to get off on toying with her and trying to freak her out with his descriptions."

"I was thinking the same," Halstead said.

"So, since we're in this position, I'm going to rely on you, Jay. You're going to be in there with her. We've got a case to make on a serial killer here, so if she starts to go sideways, you get in there and make sure the interview doesn't get screwed up. She's going to be doing the questioning, but as her partner and her mentor the responsibility is going to be on you."

"Not a problem," Halstead assured her. It wasn't a situation anyone wanted to be in, likely including Purrazzo once she learned about it.

"Good. And before she goes anywhere near an interview room, you sit her down and tell her what the deal is. Tell her to do her best to avoid visibly reacting to what Layfield says to her, no matter how graphic it is. And coach her on asking minimalist questions. Layfield's a guy who likes to tell a story. Make sure she shuts up and lets him when she needs to. Constant interruptions are going to cost us information, not produce it. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that."

"No," Halstead said. "I'll speak to her and take care of it. And for what it's worth, I think she'll do fine. She's smart. That first interview rattled her, and I know getting rattled pissed her off. It won't happen again."

Erin nodded, accepting his opinion and bringing the chat to an end. "See that it doesn't."


	25. Chapter 25

Halstead had waited longer than he had expected for his partner to get back to the station. When Purrazzo eventually walked in, he saw what had taken her so long. The beanie hat and the gloves were the only things that remained from the outfit that she had been dressed in at the Layfield house. She had been home to change.

"What's going on? Olinsky said I was wanted back here," she said, taking off the hat and gloves and tossing them onto her desk. "I asked him why and all he said was 'go home and change'."

Of course he did, Halstead thought with some amusement. Alvin was a man of few words, but he did care deeply about everyone in Intelligence, even the newcomer.

"Have a seat," he instructed, motioning to her desk, next to his own. The original plan had been to take her somewhere for a private chat, but they were currently the only ones in the room. Lindsay was in her office with the door shut, and everyone else was either out or elsewhere in the station.

"Did I do something wrong?" Purrazzo asked as she sat down at her desk, turning her chair to face him.

"No, you haven't done anything. We've been put in a bit of a situation by John Layfield."

Her eyebrows raised slightly. "What kind of situation?"

"He has given a written statement confessing to a further eight killings, in addition to Carla."

"Eight?" Purrazzo cried. "Madonna Mia! What the hell have we stumbled upon here?"

The Italian exclamation might have amused Halstead in other circumstances, but there was nothing funny about this situation or this case at all. "We've stumbled upon a serial killer. Or if my suspicions are correct, a pair of serial killers. I don't believe for a moment that Jillian Layfield knows nothing about these crimes. If anything, I think she might be more responsible for them than her husband."

"Agreed. But why does that involve me being yanked from the forensics job? Not that I minded getting out of the cold."

"You were recalled because Layfield has put us in an awkward position, as I said. In his confession he stated a willingness to give full details and descriptions of the eight killings, but only to you."

"To me? Wait, he thinks I'm going to be a soft touch, is that it?"

Halstead had always been of the opinion that honesty was the most important thing between partners. "Probably," he answered frankly. "Plus I think he's attracted to you, and he got off on telling you about killing his daughter. It's not all that uncommon behaviour with serial killers."

Purrazzo sighed. "This is because I got rattled last time I interviewed him. I'm so pissed at myself over that. I know Sergeant Lindsay was annoyed about it too. I'm not going to let it happen again."

"That's good to hear," Halstead said with a smile. "Remember you're in charge of the interview, not Layfield. Don't let him get under your skin, and if, or should I say when, he goes into graphic detail, do your best not to show a reaction to it. That's what he wants out of this."

"I won't drop the ball this time," she promised.

"The other thing I need you to keep in mind is how best to question Layfield. He's a story teller. He's going to enjoy telling you what he wants to tell you. So, the best thing to do is keep your questions as minimalist and as infrequent as needed to keep the story coming. For example, if he says he strangled someone, you can come in and simply ask, 'What did you strangle her with?' Don't draw anything out or stop him in his tracks."

"I understand. I'll do my absolute best. No one wants that guy, and his wife if she had anything to do with it, behind bars more than I do. From a personal point of view, I just wish we'd get a case that can show off my strengths instead of my weaknesses, you know?"

As her partner, Halstead could definitely understand what she meant. The main reason she had gotten the Intelligence job over Amanda Rose had been her military experience and extensive training. So far, she hadn't been able to put any of that experience or training to use for the unit.

"The time will come," he assured her. "But for now we have this case, and it's a big one. Are you ready to handle this interview? I'll be there with you of course."

Purrazzo nodded seriously. "I'm ready."

"Okay, I'll get it set up." Halstead picked up his phone to arrange for Layfield to be taken to an interview room.

* * *

Halstead allowed his partner to enter the interview room first, since she was going to lead. Layfield and McMahon were already there of course. The self-confessed murderer looked happy to see Purrazzo.

"Hello, John," she said in a business-like tone before going straight into introducing herself and Halstead for the benefit of the video record, and reminding Layfield of his rights.

Before the interview proper got underway, Halstead looked first at Purrazzo, sitting next to him, and Layfield, opposite her. They both looked confident to him, thinking that they were going to control the coming exchange. He had a feeling that Layfield was going to be surprised on that one.

"Right, John, before we start on your confession, there's something we need to agree on between us," Purrazzo said.

Halstead wondered where she was going.

"What's that, Officer Purrazzo?" Layfield asked with interest.

"We're going to have to agree to treat each other with respect. You see, last time I interviewed you I treated you with respect, and you responded by trying to get under my skin. And it kind of worked, too. The thought of any man taking a carving knife to his daughter's body is abhorrent to me. But here's something you don't know about me, John. Before I became a police officer I was in the Marines. I've killed a lot of people, more people than you have. So, you're not going to get a reaction from me again. So, like I said, we shall treat each other with respect. Agreed?"

"Okay, Officer Purrazzo, that's agreed," Layfield said, actually looking impressed with what he had heard. Nonetheless, Halstead expected the game-playing to happen, or at least to be attempted.

"Let's start with the second body we've discovered, buried next to or with your daughter. Who is it?"

Layfield sighed, possibly a little troubled by whatever memory had just come to him, at least for a moment. "The nanny. The one who caused the problem."

"Does this nanny have a name?"

"Lauren. Lauren Stevens."

"What problem did Lauren cause?" Purrazzo asked.

Good, Halstead thought. She was keeping the questions short and using a calm tone, making herself easy to talk to.

"I was sleeping with her, and she got pregnant. She told me she was going to tell Jillian everything."

"You didn't want her to do that?"

"Of course not," Layfield said. "I tried to talk her around, but instead of listening to me she got confrontational and insisted she was going to tell Jillian. Nothing was going to come between me and my wife, so I killed her."

"How did you kill her?" Purrazzo asked, continuing with the tone she had chosen to use.

"Strangled her. We were out somewhere in my truck one night when the argument happened. Lauren told me she was pregnant, that the baby was mine, and she wanted me to leave Jillian. I told her several times that wasn't going to happen, then she screamed at me that she would tell Jillian everything. There was no way that was going to happen. I saw red, and I strangled her."

"What did you strangle her with?" Purrazzo asked.

We're talking about two murder charges here, Halstead thought. Killing a pregnant woman brought a murder charge in relation to the unborn baby. He had to assume Layfield hadn't allowed for that in his count of eight, so that now brought it to nine, plus Carla.

"My hands," Layfield said simply.

"Then what happened?"

"I realised I had to get rid of the body, obviously. And I had to do it without Jillian finding out. I didn't want her questioning me, or implicated in any way. So I left the body in the back of the truck wrapped in a bunch of plastic sheets until the next morning when Jillian went out. Then I brought it into the house, dismembered it in the same way I told you about Carla, and buried it in the garden."

He talks about the whole situation like he's talking about flushing a dead goldfish down the toilet so the kids don't find out, Halstead thought, wanting to shake his head. Layfield was cold in the extreme.

"How long after Carla's death did this happen?" Purrazzo asked.

"After? It happened before. Lauren was the first person I killed, I think. Carla was the last."

"I see. Why did you choose to bury Carla so close to Lauren?"

Layfield smirked a little. "There wasn't any room left in the garden."

What a chilling comment that was, as of course it had been intended to be. Halstead and Purrazzo looked at each other for a moment. Then the interview room door opened and Sergeant Lindsay looked in. A gesture with her head was enough to tell her two team members to step outside.

Purrazzo formally suspended the interview, then followed Halstead next door to the observation room, where Lindsay stood waiting.

"What's up?" Halstead asked.

"What has he told you about how the second victim died?" Lindsay asked.

"The victim was called Lauren Stevens, a nanny for the Layfields," Purrazzo said. "He said they had been sleeping with each other, and one day while they were out in his truck she told him she was pregnant and wanted him to leave Jillian to be with her. There was an argument, which ended with Lauren threatening to tell Jillian everything. Layfield lost it and strangled her."

"Well, pretty safe to say that at least some of that is bullshit," Lindsay said. "I've just had Olinsky on the phone. They've got most of Lauren's body out of the ground. The wrists and arms are elaborately bound with some kind of insulated wire, and there is medical plaster and duct tape wrapped around the skull. She was bound and gagged when she was murdered."

"We found all that bondage porn," Purrazzo said immediately.

"Yes, we did. And we found pictures of Jillian Layfield in bondage too," Halstead added.

"I still like her for these killings," Lindsay said. "I can see her as the one with the bondage fetish, the one tying up, likely torturing, then murdering this Lauren Stevens girl, and making her husband her useful idiot in getting rid of the evidence and taking the hit for her if this situation ever came to be."

"I think you might be right about that," Kevin Atwater said, having just arrived at the doorway along with Kim Burgess.

"You spoke to Gemma Layfield?" Lindsay asked, although it was hardly a question, since that was the order she had given them.

"Yes," Atwater said. "We told her we had arrested her dad and her mom on murder charges. Her exact words were, 'If anyone's been killed, it'll be mom who did it. Dad won't have killed anyone. Mom can be nasty when she loses her temper.' After that, she wouldn't give us anything else."

Halstead pictured the pretty blonde with the nice smile that he had seen in the interview room. Jillian Layfield sure didn't look like a killer, but that meant nothing.

"What do we do now?" Purrazzo wanted to know.

Lindsay thought for a moment. "We put John on the back burner for a while. Burgess, Atwater, you're going to interview Jillian again, and you're going to lean hard on her. I want her breaking, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Atwater said.

Lindsay looked at Halstead and Purrazzo. "In the meantime, you two start getting through those video tapes. If you find any with Jillian or John Layfield in them, I want to know about it."

"Alright," Halstead said. Apparently he was going to spend the rest of the shift watching porn. But would it lead to anything?


	26. Chapter 26

"None of this floats my boat," Halstead said.

"It obviously floats the Layfields'," Purrazzo replied.

They were sitting in a small office that had been requisitioned by Sergeant Lindsay for Intelligence. In the room were two chairs in front of a small desk, a TV and a VCR player on a stand, and the stack of VHS tapes that had been found at the Layfield house. So far, they had made their way through several of the tapes, all of which had contained bondage-themed porn, none of it featuring the Layfields themselves, or anything incriminating. Thankfully that had allowed them to watch on the skip forward setting and speed the process up a bit. It also saved them having to listen to the audio.

"Never thought I'd get paid to watch porn when I joined Intelligence," Purrazzo said a couple of minutes later.

"Neither did I, yet here we are. Put the next tape in," Halstead said, having just reached the end of the current one.

Purrazzo got up and ejected the tape from the machine. After replacing it in its cardboard sleeve, she added it to the small stack of tapes that was going to form the 'watched' pile.

"Right, let's see what's next," she said with a notable lack of enthusiasm. She took the next tape from one of the piles and put it into the machine.

Halstead waited for her to sit down again before he hit play. Immediately, he realised that this tape was different to the ones they had watched so far. It was clear that this one was a home video. It showed an empty four poster bed, filmed from the bottom end.

"Is that the Layfield house? That looks smaller than the four poster they had in their master bedroom," Purrazzo said.

"It is smaller. And it's not the master bedroom. To me it looks like that room that was being used for storage when we were there. And based on where the camera must be, I'd say it's being filming through a hole in the wall from the bathroom."

"Okay, lie on the bed, honey," a female voice said on the tape. It was unmistakeably Jillian Layfield before she even walked into the shot, leading a young blonde woman over to the bed by her hand. Both women were naked, and very attractive. The video quality wasn't the best, but it was possible to tell that Jillian wasn't much over twenty years old. It didn't take a genius to figure out who the cameraman would have been.

Jillian dumped a bunch of items on the bed while the mystery woman did as she was told, getting on and lying down.

"I'm going to tie you up, gag you, then we'll really have some fun," Jillian said seductively.

"Wonder who that is? Could be one of the victims," Purrazzo said.

"No idea. But when we're done here we'll get Z on it. If anyone can get it enhanced and analysed, it's her. That's still no guarantee we'll be able to identify her, though."

On the screen, the young woman who wasn't Jillian Layfield was having her ankles tied to the two posts at the bottom of the bed with white bondage ropes, spreading them wide. With that done, Jillian moved up the bed to work on her wrists. The speed at which she worked while apparently getting good results showed that even at the young age she had been experienced in bondage.

"You think she's being paid, or she's there for her own enjoyment?" Purrazzo asked.

"Jillian said something about both of them having fun, so I don't think she's being paid. Whether she knows she's being filmed though, that might be another thing."

"There we go, Beth. Try and move," Jillian said when she was done applying the bondage.

"Beth. Note that down," Halstead instructed Purrazzo, who hurried to do so on the notepad she had been keeping at hand.

On the video, Beth's attempts to move against her restraints proved fruitless.

"Good," Jillian said cheerfully. Next, she picked up a white cloth and a roll of some kind of black tape. "Open your mouth," she instructed.

Beth opened wide, and Jillian crammed the rolled up cloth into it. Wasting no time, she quickly pressed tape over Beth's lips, then proceeded to wrap it around her head several times.

"Mmmppph," Beth gasped into the comprehensive gag.

"I can't imagine that's enjoyable," Purrazzo said. "I'd be scared of choking or not being able to breathe. Crazy that she seemingly volunteered for it. How would you talk someone into something like that?"

Jay couldn't imagine himself getting very far if he suggested it to Erin, not least because she had once been bound, gagged and almost raped by a suspect during her first period in Intelligence. As for Beth, it was possible that she was enjoying what Jillian was doing to her. People were into all kinds of things, so who could tell?

"Let's just watch it play out," he said.

And they did. Jillian began by pleasuring Beth with oral sex. A dildo was then introduced. After the bound woman had her second orgasm, moaning into her gag and straining against her bonds, Jillian walked out of the shot. When she came back, she had a much bigger dildo in hand. That was when events took a turn.

The second dildo proved to be too big for Beth, which seemed to anger Jillian for some reason. Her tone changed, becoming nasty.

"What's the matter with you, you pathetic bitch? You never had man with a big dick before?"

It was possible to tell by the noises through the gag that Beth wasn't having fun anymore, and wanted to be released. But that wasn't going to happen.

"Shut the fuck up and take it," Jillian snapped.

"This is graphic," Purrazzo said, wincing as they had to watch Jillian viciously assault Beth with the dildo. The sights and sounds were equally as appalling.

Mercifully, the video abruptly ended.

"Jesus Christ," Purrazzo said. "That bitch is beyond cruel. She was loving every second of hurting that poor girl, too."

"Yes, and that makes what we just saw very good evidence, especially if Beth is one of the people buried in the garden. Put the next tape in."

"I don't know if I want to watch any more of that."

"Put the next tape in," he repeated a little more forcefully. They were there to gather evidence, not have a good time.

"Yes, sir," Purrazzo said, quickly getting up.

Halstead liked the way her military training kicked in at moments like that. Once she had an order, she carried it out. But at the same time he had to keep in mind that she was inexperienced in this kind of police work, seeing awful, graphic things that were new to her. It was his job as her mentor not only to teach her, but also to look after her to an extent. Nobody, including him, found it easy when first confronted with some of the appalling things that people could do to each other. Possibly one of the most appalling people he had ever encountered looked like being Jillian Layfield. But he and the team had to prove it.

* * *

"Hey, come in," Jay said when he opened his front door to Erin that evening. To him, even with a big coat and a beanie hat on, she looked stunningly beautiful. His mind was now able to do a much better job of separating 'work Erin' and 'out of work Erin', and 'out of work Erin' made his heart skip a beat whenever he saw her.

"Sorry I'm late over tonight, I got stuck in the office with Z," Erin said as she walked in. She give him a peck on the lips, then started taking off her cold weather clothing. "I made the mistake of asking her how she was getting on with the computer for Purrazzo. Apparently a simple question didn't have a simple answer. I couldn't shut her up once she got going."

"Sorry," Jay said sympathetically as he took her coat.

"Nothing wrong with her being passionate about her work of course. I could just have been spared all the details that didn't mean anything to me anyway. Meanwhile you sat watching porn all afternoon. I expect you to show me how thankful you are for that assignment," she added as a weak attempt at humour.

They walked through to the kitchen so that Jay could fix drinks for them. He had wine available, as was usually the case. "I'm not thankful for it. It was all weird bondage porn – girls being tied up, gagged, then engaged in all manner of sexual acts. Not my kind of thing."

"All of it was like that?"

Jay took two wine glasses out of a cupboard. "I was thinking of ordering Thai. That good with you?"

"Sounds great. And it's my turn to pay," Erin said.

Jay opened the bottle and poured two glasses of wine, and handed one to her. With that done, he returned to the previous question. "All of it was like that. Although one video will be good evidence for us, because it was a homemade film. It showed Jillian Layfield, much younger than she is now, tying some girl called Beth up on a four poster bed. She stuffed a cloth in her mouth and taped it shut, then made love to her. But it didn't end there. Jillian got violent, and ended up brutally assaulting Beth with a massive dildo. It was sickening, Er. In fact I'd like not to talk about it anymore if that's okay? Let's enjoy our night."

"Of course. It was me who brought up the office. Sorry."

Jay kissed her. "You don't have to apologise. It's normal for people to talk about their day at work. The problem is we often don't do work that's nice to talk about."

"True," Erin said, putting her arms around his waist and cuddling up to him, clearly in one of her affectionate moods. Those moods didn't come all that often, it just wasn't really her style. "And all day I have to think about going home to that dump. I've thought about asking Voight if I can move into his place until I find something better."

A lightbulb went off in Jay's head in that moment. Part of him considered keeping his mouth shut, but no, not this time, he decided. "You could move in here. If you want to, I mean."

Erin studied him for a moment, giving nothing away with her expression. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

"I think you hate where you're living. You complain about it often, you've never let me set foot in the place, and you've just talked about moving in with Hank. Not to mention you're here pretty much every night anyway. But it's up to you, no pressure. I'm simply putting the offer on the table."

"Thanks, Jay. I'll think about it, okay?"

"Okay. You're here now, that's what matters to me. Come here."

They embraced each other, a bit awkwardly because they were both holding wine glasses, but neither of them cared. Their attention was solely on kissing each other, immediately lost in the moment. For Halstead, there was no better way to take his mind off the awful case than to be with the woman he loved. That was the truth of it. He loved Erin Lindsay deeply. He could only hope that the same depth of feeling was there for him in her heart.


	27. Chapter 27

Halstead found the Intelligence office empty when he walked in the next morning. He knew Olinsky was in because they had passed each other in the station's entrance area. Alvin had been heading out somewhere, talking on his phone. Purrazzo was in too, he saw, as her coat was on the back of her chair and a Starbucks cup was on her desk, with Deonna written on it but spelled wrong. He imagined she got that quite a lot. He tossed his keys on his desk and walked around it to sit down.

"Purrazzo has gone to the shooting range," came Zelina Vega's voice from her office.

"How did you know it was me?" Halstead called back.

"You throw your keys on the desk like that every morning. Apparently I'm the detective among us."

Halstead smiled. There was always a bit of Latina sass about Vega, and he liked it. "You wish," he called through to her. "You do what you're good at, sitting there drinking coffee all day and installing Windows 7."

"Windows 7?" Vega laughed. "What decade did you turn up from? Oh, Purrazzo said if you want to learn how to shoot, go join her."

"Purrazzo said that?" he asked doubtfully.

"Well, they might not have been her exact words," Vega admitted, and they both laughed.

Figuring there was some time to go before the official start of his shift, Halstead decided that yes, he would go and find his partner at the shooting range. Curiosity played a part in it. He was no slouch with an assault rifle, no one in Intelligence was, but the hype about Purrazzo's military experience suggested she was a step above. He wanted to see for himself if it was true.

Just then, Ruzek and Burgess walked in. Greetings were exchanged, then Halstead got down to pressing matters.

"Kim, how did it go with Jillian yesterday evening?"

"It didn't," Burgess grumbled. "No matter what we try with her, she just sits there repeating that she doesn't know anything about anyone being buried in her garden, and denying any knowledge of anyone ever coming to harm in the house, including her daughter."

"What about that horrific video Purrazzo and I found?"

"She said her husband liked to video her having sex with girls when they were younger. Said you'll probably find more videos, but everyone in them was there consensually, and nothing was done that they didn't agree too."

"Bullshit," Halstead said heatedly. "That girl, Beth, was terrified and in pain, struggling and trying to get free."

Burgess nodded without much enthusiasm. "Right. And if we were trying to pin an assault charge on her, we might be getting somewhere. As sad as it sounds, if we want something that starts making her for murder, we need to find Beth or someone from one of the other videos in that garden."

It was awful, but it might be true, Halstead had to acknowledge.

"What do you Lindsay's going to have us do next?" Burgess wondered.

"Me? Probably cleaning the canteen or something," Ruzek grumbled. "I don't think I've played a decent part in a case since she took charge. Feels like she wants me off the team because I stood firm about Kim coming back."

"She doesn't want you off the team," Halstead assured him. He believed it too. However, he also believed it was true that Lindsay was treating Ruzek badly because of the whole Burgess thing. And that was something she needed to stop doing.

"I don't know. But I can tell you one thing: If she wants me gone, she's going to have to fire me. And if she fires me, she'd better have a good reason."

"Adam," Kim said, urging him to settle down.

"Give it a bit of time, it'll be okay," Halstead said. With that, he left the office to head for the shooting range.

A few minutes later, Halstead entered the range equipped with his pistol and some ammunition, wearing the stupid safety glasses and ear defenders that they made people wear. He could never understand the point when safety glasses and ear defenders were obviously never used out in the field. But rules were rules, even when they were stupid.

There was an area for assault rifle practice, and an area for pistols. Halstead saw that the couple of people practicing with their pistols were men, so he walked down towards the assault rifle area. Sure enough, he found Purrazzo at one of the lanes.

Standing a few feet back for safety's sake, he stood and watched her work. Firing three round bursts, she was peppering the inner ring on the pop-up target's heads and hearts. Her groupings were so good that they ended up making large holes in the centre rings. On a range, it wasn't possible to shoot any better. He could have almost matched it, but not quite. It was safe to say that if she ever needed to make a shot while working a case, she would make. That was a large reason why she had edged out Amanda Rose for the Intelligence gig.

Eventually, Purrazzo ran out of ammo. When she was done, she made sure her gun was safe, then took off her ear defenders.

"Hey," Halstead said over the noise of other people's gunfire.

Purrazzo turned and smiled when she saw him. "Oh, hi. Didn't know I had an audience. Usually I charge for shooting lessons."

"Very funny," Halstead said dryly. "Those were good groupings though."

"Thanks. Are you going to have a go with that pistol?"

"Yeah," he replied. Suddenly, he felt a little under pressure. The woman he was mentoring was going to watch him do something that she was better at than him. He wanted to hit those centre rings like he never had before.

They proceeded down to where pistols were allowed to be used, and Halstead stepped into an empty lane.

"Good luck," Purrazzo said from a few feet behind him. There was a bit of smugness about it that Halstead didn't like. So long as the attitude was restricted to the shooting range, he supposed he would let it slide.

To his immense satisfaction, Halstead shot well. All but two of his shots found the centre rings.

"Not great, but not terrible," Purrazzo said after he took his ear defenders off.

"Yeah, yeah," he replied, only partially feigning grumpiness as he made his gun safe

"Don't worry, I won't mention it again. Do you know what we're doing today?"

"I don't. But Sergeant Lindsay is probably in by now. Let's go and see."

"I hope it's not watching that awful porn again. Think I saw my lifetime's worth of bondage yesterday," she grumbled.

Halstead stopped and looked at his partner with slightly raised eyebrows.

"I pissed you off, didn't I?" Purrazzo said regretfully. "Sorry, I was just trying to have a bit of fun."

"I'm not bothered about that. We can needle each other a bit, that's fine. It's what partners do. What needs to stop is the whining about what we have to do. Intelligence is like any other police work – sometimes the jobs you get given to do are shit. But regardless, we do what Sergeant Lindsay tells us, without complaint. Can I assume you don't have a problem with that?"

"I don't have a problem with that," she said respectfully. "Didn't feel comfortable with that kind of porn is all."

Having said what needed to be said, Halstead decided to let them both move on. He gave her a slap on the shoulder. "Come on, Lindsay will probably be waiting."

Lindsay was waiting, along with the rest of the team. The boss gave a pointed look at her watch, since they were coming back a couple of minutes late, however she didn't chastise them. Her briefing began with a summary of what had happened the previous day, culminating with voicing displeasure at Burgess and Atwater's ongoing failure to break Jillian Layfield.

"She's not going to crack," Burgess opined. "She's going to sit there denying all knowledge of anything until the end of time because she knows her husband is going to take the fall. If we want to break her, we need a different tactic."

"Either that or some hard evidence against her specifically," Atwater added.

Burgess nodded. "Or that."

Lindsay didn't look impressed. "Well, whether you think she's going to break or not, you're going to keep interviewing her until she does. At the same time, I'll consider other angles." Next, she looked at Halstead and Purrazzo. "You two are going with Layfield to the house. He's agreed to provide the locations of the other bodies, as usual insisting on dealing with you, Purrazzo."

"Yes, ma'am," Purrazzo said as Halstead nodded.

"Olinsky is taking a personal day, so Ruzek, I'm with you. We're going to speak to the two kids. I want to find out what they know about any young women who were in their house, nannies, friends, or anything else."

"Sounds good," Ruzek said, looking pleased to be involved in something fairly important.

"Let's get to it," Lindsay said, breaking up the briefing. "Halstead, Purrazzo, John Layfield will be ready for transport by the time you get downstairs. Two uniforms will be going with you. I'll be in touch for updates."

"Got it," Halstead said, and with a motion of his head to his partner, he turned and headed for the stairs.

* * *

Walking into the garden at the Layfield house, Halstead took a moment to survey the scene. The deck was completely gone, now nothing more than a pile of firewood at the bottom of the garden. In its former place was a large white tent belonging to the forensics unit, who were still working around the two grave sites they had discovered.

"Look what they've done to my house!" Layfield protested behind Halstead. The self-confessed murderer had walked out into the garden beside Purrazzo. Two male uniformed officers came out behind them.

"They've hardly started yet," Purrazzo said without sympathy. "You've got eight locations to give us, so why don't we get on with it and we can get out of the cold?"

"I want to see my wife," Layfield blurted out.

Purrazzo looked at him suspiciously. "What?"

"I want to see my wife. I'm not giving you anything until I've got a guarantee I can see Jillian."

"That's not what was agreed," Halstead said.

"I don't give a fuck what was agreed," Layfield snapped. "I want to see my wife. Make that happen, or I'm saying nothing."

Halstead's decision was an easy one. He would pass it on to the boss. "Get Sergeant Lindsay on the phone," he said to Purrazzo.

"Okay," Purrazzo said. She took her phone out of her pocket and removed one of her gloves to use her thumbprint to unlock it. With that done, she called Lindsay's number. It took a while for the call to be answered.

"Lindsay."

"Hi, Sergeant Lindsay. I'm at the Layfield house, and we've got a bit of an issue."

"A bit of an issue?" Lindsay asked with concern.

"Mr Layfield is saying he's not going to tell us anything unless he gets to see his wife. He wants a guarantee on it from you."

There was silence on the line for a moment while Lindsay considered it. "Put me on speaker," she ordered.

Purrazzo took the phone away from her ear and tapped the speaker icon. "You're on speaker now."

"Mr Layfield?" Lindsay asked.

"Yeah," Layfield said.

"Come what may, we're digging up every inch of that garden. You're there to make the job easier, not because we need you in order to do it. Having said that, I can make a short visit with your wife happen. It will be on the condition that Detective Halstead and Officer Purrazzo return to the station and tell me that the forensics team have eight locations to work with. Do we understand each other."

"We do," Layfield said, happy at the prospect of seeing Jillian.

"Good. And those locations had better turn out to be the right ones, or I'll make sure the next time you see your wife will also be the last." With that, the call was ended from Lindsay's side.

"You heard the lady," Halstead said to Layfield. "Starting at this end of the garden, give us the first location."

"Okay. I need to wait for their spirits to come up," Layfield said.

Halstead remembered him making weird comments like that on the previous visit to the house. He decided not to bother responding to it. He wanted locations, not theatrics.

After a couple of minutes, Layfield stepped onto the lawn to the right of the large tent and walked about five feet down the garden. He stopped and looked around to get his bearings, then moved to his right a bit. "I'd say try here, where I'm standing."

"I'll get one of the forensics guys to come and mark the spot," Halstead said, making for the entrance to the tent.

His departure left Purrazzo relatively alone with Layfield, for the two uniforms were standing near the house's back door.

"You know, one of these girls looked quite like you, Officer Purrazzo," Layfield said, quietly taking pleasure in it. "She hadn't killed anyone though. That's quite a turn on, that you've done that."

"Want me to tell you about one of the people I killed, John?" she whispered back to him, leaning in close. She didn't wait for an answer. "When I was serving in Afghanistan, we got word of a camp located near to where we were stationed. The leader of that camp was having women abducted, and was raping and killing them. It was decided that this man should be taken out in a covert op. Me and two others were assigned to the mission. We went in one night when we knew there were only a few men and the leader in the camp. When we went in, it ended up being me who snuck into the leader's tent. He was the only one in there at the time. When I snuck in, he was standing there looking at a map, with his back to me. I crept up on him, put my hand over his mouth and slit his throat from ear to ear. He collapsed, and I held him down, keeping him nice and quiet, and looking into his eyes as he bled out. He hated that it was a woman who killed him. They don't let us do things like that in the Police Department, which I think is a shame. Because if they did, suspecting what you did to these girls, I'd visit your cell one night and bleed you, real quiet, and leave you for uniform to find."

"Everything okay?" Halstead asked, having emerged from the tent with one of Dr Manning's men.

"Yep," Purrazzo said cheerfully.

Halstead noticed that some of the colour had drained from John Layfield's face. He assumed it was because they were in the garden, where his appalling crimes were coming back to him.


	28. Chapter 28

"We've got a problem," Kevin Atwater reported as he walked into the Intelligence room. Kim Burgess was just behind him.

"What problem?" Lindsay asked. She was perched on the edge of Ruzek's desk. Ruzek, Halstead and Purrazzo were at their desks. Until Atwater's interruption, they had been discussing the day's events.

Halstead and Purrazzo had extracted eight locations in the garden from John Layfield. Halstead had found it odd that Layfield had spoken to him more than to his partner, a marked change from his previous insistence to deal only with Purrazzo.

Meanwhile, Lindsay and Ruzek had been to talk to the two surviving Layfield children. Little of value had been learned, but it had been confirmed that there had been multiple nannies coming and going, with little or no explanation offered to the kids for the changes. Halstead also noticed that there seemed to be a bit less tension between Lindsay and Ruzek, so he wondered if they'd had a talk while they had been in the car together. He hoped so.

"Jillian is refusing to see John," Atwater said. "She says she can't look him in the eye now she knows what he's done."

"She's hanging him out to dry. I didn't see that coming," Purrazzo said.

"I did," Lindsay replied. "That's the reason I agreed to his demand to meet with her. 4D chess, Purrazzo. The way I see it, John's covering for his wife out of some crazy sense of love and loyalty for her. I believe she's at least as responsible for these murders as he is, if not more so. When he finds out she wants nothing to do with him, that she doesn't love him anymore, then I think we might get the truth out of him."

"Good plan. Might work," Halstead said. Internally, he felt very proud of his girlfriend. She was an excellent sergeant, notwithstanding the somewhat uncertain start she had made to the job.

"Time to find out," Lindsay said. "I've instructed uniform to have John Layfield put into an interview room. I was thinking we'd lay down the ground rules of the visitation to him. Instead, we'll give him the bad news and see how he reacts. Halstead, Purrazzo, you're up. I'll call the front desk and see if they're ready."

Lindsay leaned over and picked up Ruzek's phone. She pressed one of the speed dial buttons, and was connected almost immediately.

"Trudy, this is Lindsay. Is John Layfield ready for us?"

"Oh, is he really? Why?"

"Alright, thanks." She put down the phone and took a second to consider whatever it was that she had just been told.

"Problem?" Halstead asked.

"Not really a problem, no. Layfield's saying he doesn't want to speak to you again, Purrazzo. He wants to deal with you now, Burgess." She looked at the team's newest recruit. "Any idea why he's had a sudden change of heart?"

"No, ma'am," Purrazzo said. "Maybe he decided he didn't like me so much after all? Or maybe he realised he doesn't intimidate me?"

"We can all relate to not liking you," Halstead said, drawing chuckles from everyone.

"I don't like the way he keeps dictating the way we handle him though," Atwater said.

"Don't worry about it," Lindsay said. "So long as he's talking, I don't care who it's to. If he thinks he's winning some kind of victory, good for him. Besides, Kim's a more experienced interrogator. Jay, you've been in the interviews, so I'm keeping you there. You and Kim go speak to Layfield now. Let's see if his wife rejecting him pushes him over the edge."

"Let's do it," Halstead said, giving a little smile to Burgess as he got up, and they walked together down the stairs out of Intelligence.

"How are you doing, Jay?" Burgess asked once they were out of the room. "We haven't seen much of each other outside of work lately. Is everything good with you and Erin?"

"Yeah, we're good, thanks. I'm sorry I've not been over to see you guys and Alex though. We'll have to work something out one night this week. Don't want him forgetting his uncle Jay."

"He's in two," Sergeant Platt called out as they walked past the front desk.

"Thanks," Halstead said to her.

"Yes, one night this week is good," Burgess said. "While they were out earlier, Adam and Erin had a rather frank exchange of views."

"I bet that was a fly on the wall moment," Halstead said, looking at his friend for her reaction to whatever had happened. She looked quite pleased.

"I'm sure it was. But what matters is Adam says they ended up clearing the air. I'm glad, because neither of us dislike Erin. We both called her a friend before she left for New York. We'd like to call her a friend again, even if it takes some time."

"Hopefully everyone's back on track, or soon will be. I know that's what I want." They approached Interview Room 2, and their thoughts turned back to the job at hand. "Let's wreck Layfield's day."

"Looking forward to it," Burgess said. She opened the door and led the way inside. Layfield and his lawyer were both sitting at the table. "Hello, John."

"Hello, Officer Burgess," Layfield said, looking agitated. "Why am I in an interview room? I made an agreement with Sergeant Lindsay. I'm supposed to be seeing my wife."

"That's right, John, you made an agreement," Burgess said as she and Halstead sat down across from him. "You provide eight body locations, you get to see your wife, that was the agreement."

"Yes, it was," Layfield snapped. "I gave you eight goddamn locations, so why is Lindsay fucking me around?"

"Sergeant Lindsay is a woman of her word," Burgess said. "And she attempted to deliver on the agreement you made. Not ten minutes ago, I spoke with Jillian and told her she could have a visitation with you shortly. She refused."

"Bullshit," Layfield accused immediately.

"No bullshit, John. As I said, I was the one who spoke to Jillian. She's refusing to see you. She says she wants nothing to do with you after what you've done."

"You're lying," Layfield snarled angrily, causing Halstead to prepare for him to blow up, not that he would achieve much with his handcuffs secured to the table.

"I'm not lying to you, John. Myself, Detective Halstead, Officer Purrazzo, we've all been up front with you, have we not? I spoke to Jillian myself and she said..."

"I want to see my wife!" Layfield exploded. "Get my wife in here! Get Sergeant Lindsay in here! I want to see my wife!"

Halstead was taken by surprise by the suddenness of the outburst, and felt glad of the fact that Layfield was secured to the table. Otherwise there would likely have been an ugly scene while he was put down. He decided to take charge of the situation.

"John, calm down. Screaming at us isn't going to help you, okay? I'll go get Sergeant Lindsay for you. Maybe she'll be willing to speak to Jillian for you herself. But you're going to have to calm down first."

"Yes, get here in here. I'm saying nothing else to any of you until I see my wife," Layfield said sullenly, but he had stopped trying to kick off.

Halstead could see the pain of potential rejection in the man's eyes, not that he felt any sympathy. All he wanted was to put both John and Jillian Layfield away for life. To that end, he got up and left the interview room. Moments later, he was back in Intelligence.

"That didn't take long," Lindsay said, still sitting on the edge of Ruzek's desk.

"He just about blew a gasket. Wants to speak to you. Thinks you can make a visit happen even though we told him Jillian said no," Halstead told her.

"You know, I've just had an idea," Lindsay said, hopping off the desk. "Come with me. We're going to speak to Trudy."

They left Intelligence and approached the front desk. They had to wait for a moment while Sergeant Platt finished a phone call.

"Trudy, need your help with something," Lindsay said. "I think we're on the point of breaking John Layfield. He's losing it because his wife won't visit with him, but he doesn't quite believe she's actually said no. So what I need you to do is have her brought out of her cell, and have her in the hallway near Interview Room 2 in five minutes. I want them to 'accidentally' encounter each other, and I want him to see her reject him."

"You got it," Platt said, seeming to like the idea. "Sinclair!" she barked a uniformed officer who happened to be passing by.

"Yes, sergeant?" Sinclair asked, approaching the desk.

"Get Jillian Layfield out of her cell. Five minutes from now, Sergeant Lindsay is going to bring John Layfield out of Interview Room 2. You are to ensure he 'accidentally' encounters his wife when that happens. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sinclair said, and hurried off to carry out the task be had been given.

"Right, come with me, Jay," Lindsay said. They walked together towards the interview room where Layfield and Burgess were waiting. No further words were exchanged between them before she led the way into the interview room.

John Layfield had calmed down, Halstead saw when he entered, likely thanks to Burgess.

"Sergeant Lindsay, we made an agreement," Layfield said without preamble.

Halstead closed the door and stood by it to watch the exchange.

"Yes, John, we made an agreement. As I'm sure Officer Burgess told you, I attempted to live up to it. I sent Burgess to prepare your wife for visitation, and she refused to see you."

"I don't believe that," Layfield said, although his voice began to suggest that maybe he was starting to.

"I'm not lying to you, John. I haven't lied to you since we met. Your wife refused to see you, and it puts us in a position because there's nothing I can legally do about it. I can't make her see you if she refuses."

"Can you talk to her?" Layfield almost pleaded. "You talk to her, Sergeant Lindsay. You'll be able to convince her to change her mind, I know you will."

Halstead watched the conversation continue. Lindsay dragged it out for what felt like almost five minutes before telling Layfield he would have to go back to his cell and wait to hear from her.

Once Layfield's hands were cuffed behind his back, Halstead opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. There was no one there. He feared the plan had gone awry. But then, as Layfield was brought out, two uniformed officers walked past the junction at the end of the hallway with a handcuffed Jillian Layfield. The timing was perfect.

"Jillian!" John Layfield cried. He attempted to rush over to her, but Halstead held him back, with some assistance from Burgess.

Jillian Layfield looked at her husband with nothing but coldness in her eyes, and made no attempt to move towards him.

"Jillian!" Layfield tried again, struggling to break free.

Ignoring him, Jillian turned her back and walked away with the two officers.

"Jillian!" Layfield wailed, almost collapsing against Halstead. It seemed like his world had just ended. Again, Halstead had little sympathy for him. In fact he was pleased with the way things had transpired.

More uniforms appeared, and Lindsay ordered them to get Layfield back to his cell. He looked like a beaten man as he was led away.

"Think it'll work? Think it'll break him?" Burgess asked Lindsay.

"Don't know. We'll have to wait and find out."


	29. Chapter 29

With John Layfield back in his cell, stewing on what had happened in the hallway outside the interview room, Lindsay had sent Halstead and Purrazzo out on a Starbucks and donuts run.

"What's training like in the Marines?" Halstead asked his partner, glancing across at her in the passenger seat.

"The hardest thing you can possibly imagine," Purrazzo replied without hesitation. "They totally break you down, physically and mentally. They push you until you can't take any more, then keep pushing. And only if you can take that do you even stand a chance of passing the training."

Judging by what he knew of her so far, Halstead didn't imagine she would be an easy one to break, either physically or mentally, not least because if she were, she wouldn't have been selected for Intelligence. "How did they break you?" he asked, actually looking forward to the answer.

"Physically? Day after day, making us do cross country runs as well as countless other things. I can't even remember the ridiculous number of miles those runs were. But it was always hot weather, and they made us wear full kit, fully loaded backpacks, and just to make it extra tough they made us wear gas masks too."

"Jesus," Halstead muttered, keeping his eyes on the traffic.

"Jesus indeed."

"But you passed it, obviously."

Purrazzo nodded. "Yes, although I honestly don't know how. I so nearly failed on the final run we had to do. A couple of miles from the end, I collapsed into some mud. It had rained for a couple of days before and the ground was all churned up. So there I was, soaked in sweat and covered in mud, felt like I couldn't breathe, could barely feel my legs, shoulders were killing me. I just wanted to lie there and die."

Halstead glanced at her again, trying to imagine himself in that situation. He couldn't. "So what happened?"

I soon had Sergeant Rousey standing over me. She's the toughest bitch I've ever met, but she was great at her job. I have nothing but respect for her. Anyway, she was stood over me going, "Get up, Purrazzo! Get up, Purrazzo!" She actually made a good job of barking like a sergeant for her impersonation.

"And you got up?" he asked.

"Initially, no. I lay there in the mud and said, 'I can't do it, Sergeant.' And she was yelling at me, 'Yes, you can! On your feet, Purrazzo!' I said a couple of times that I couldn't do it, then she asked me if I want to fail. And I knew if I didn't get up, I was off the training course right there and then, and I wouldn't make the Marines."

Halstead stopped at a red light. "And that spurred you on to get up?"

"I had to. I wasn't going to have come that far only to fail so close to the end, not just of the run, but of the training. So yes, I got back up, and I finished that damn run. I was the last one over the finish line, but damn it, I made it. Sergeant Rousey was by my side, yelling at me and keeping me going."

Halstead had noticed the way she used the sergeant's name, with the utmost respect. He knew the feeling, as he felt the same way about Hank Voight. A good mentor had that effect on you. He hoped that he would come to earn that same respect from Purrazzo now that he was mentoring her in Intelligence.

"This Rousey, she meant something to you," he stated, making it sound like a question.

"Yes. Yes, for sure. She took me aside after I completed training and told me she thought I'd be a leader one day. That's one thing I regret about quitting the Marines. Feel like I let her down, and proved her wrong for believing in me."

She had sounded almost tearful. Since the light still refused to change, he looked at her and offered a reassuring smile. "I'm sure if you met her again now and told her that you've not only joined the Police Department, but made the Intelligence Unit as well, she'd be plenty proud of you. And who's to say you won't be a leader? You're twenty-seven. You could make detective by the time you're thirty if you really apply yourself and do well. And look at Lindsay, she's a sergeant on the young side of forty. What's to say you won't be leading a team of your own somewhere ten years from now?"

"Sergeant Purrazzo. I like that," she said with a giggle. His encouragement had done it's job and cheered her up.

The light finally went green, and the traffic started moving. "How about mentally, then? How did they try to break you mentally?"

"In many ways. But I'll tell you about one time when I got sent for discipline, for backchatting Sergeant Rousey. I was sent to Sergeant Grant, who started by throwing buckets of water at me. The water made a puddle on the ground, and she made me do press ups over the puddle, yelling at me to make sure I got my nose down into the water every time. At the same time, she was barking insults at me. I kept answering back, 'Fuck yourself, Sergeant!' as loud as I could. I was supposed to be punished for an hour. It ended up being three before Sergeant Rousey stepped in and called a halt to it. She had seen what I was doing, still yelling, 'Fuck yourself, Sergeant!' until the very end."

"And how did Sergeant Rousey react to that?"

"She got in my face and she was like, 'Good, Purrazzo! That's the kind of guts I want to see in my Marines!"

Halstead laughed. "That's brilliant. Just an FYI though, I wouldn't try that approach with Sergeant Lindsay if I were you. Think you might get a different reaction."

"Duly noted," Purrazzo said, grinning.

* * *

"We come bearing gifts," Purrazzo said with faux enthusiasm as she walked into Intelligence. Her assignment had been the tricky task of carry all the coffee cups from the car and up the stairs. Halstead was right behind her, carrying a big box of assorted donuts.

"So does John Layfield, I think," Lindsay said. "I just had Trudy on the phone. Layfield's lawyer has requested another interview, says his client wants to retract his previous confessions and make a new statement."

Ruzek slapped his hand on his desk in satisfaction. "Bingo! We broke the son of a bitch."

"Nice job," Burgess said to Lindsay with a nod of respect. It was the boss's little trick that had paid the dividend.

"Thanks. You're up, Kim, Jay. The rest of us can watch from next door, and eat these donuts in the process."

"I'm having one before I go anywhere," Halstead said. Putting the box down on Purrazzo's desk, he opened it up and got first pick, choosing a donut topped with chocolate.

"My coffee senses are going off," Zelina Vega said, emerging from her office. She joined the crowd around the fresh food and drinks, and lively banter soon filled the room. There was a great atmosphere, with a potential big break in the case at hand.

"Alright, let's break it up," Lindsay said after a few minutes. "Halstead, Burgess, John Layfield will be ready for you in Interview Room 3. I don't want any more BS out of him, alright?"

"Absolutely," Burgess said.

Finishing the last of his donut and carrying his cup of coffee, Halstead walked with his friend out of Intelligence.

"You know something, Jay? It just dawned on me back there that Erin's a very good sergeant," Burgess said once they were down the stairs. "When she first came back, I doubted her to say the least. I couldn't understand how she got the job, other than through her family connection to Voight. But no, she has all the skills required and then some. And that makes me wonder if she was right all along about me, too. Maybe she was right not to bring me back?"

Halstead wasn't going to hear any of that. He took her by the arm and led her aside in the hallway after the passed through the station's front entrance. "No, Kim. Just no. You're right that Erin has a lot of qualities as a sergeant. I'm sure she's going to do a great job. But on you, she was wrong. I told you exactly how I felt at the time, and I wasn't saying it because we're friends. You're an outstanding officer, and that nonsense about you losing a step after having Alex clearly isn't true. I'd put my life in your hands in a heartbeat, as I would with anyone up there. Erin made a mistake, saw sense, and corrected it, period. Okay?"

"Okay, thanks, Jay. I guess my confidence hasn't fully recovered from it yet. Never thought I'd be told I wasn't capable of doing my job."

"Well you are more than capable. And you're about to prove it by getting Layfield's new story out of him."

"Yeah, I am," Burgess smiled, grateful for the encouragement.

With that, they continued to Interview Room 3. When they got there, Burgess stopped with her hand on the door handle and gave Halstead a smile that showed her confidence had returned. "Let's do this."

Yes, let's do it, he thought. He could only imagine what he might be about to hear.


	30. Chapter 30

"I hear you want to retract your previous confessions and give a new statement, John?" Burgess asked. She and Halstead had just sat down at the interview room table. Opposite them were John Layfield and Shane McMahon, his lawyer.

"I wasn't telling the truth before," Layfield said, speaking as if he was delivering some kind of revelation.

"I'm aware of that, John," Burgess said evenly. "We've wasted a lot of police time on these interviews and your stories. I need to know that you're going to tell me the truth this time. Because from where I'm sitting, it looks you're going to carry the can for these killings on your own, while your wife denies all knowledge. That doesn't seem like justice for the victims, for their families, or quite frankly for you. So, how about you tell me what really happened? Let's start with the eight victims, then we'll come to your daughter."

Nice opening, Halstead thought, not that he was surprised. Unlike with Purrazzo, which wasn't her fault, he didn't have to worry about stepping in with Burgess doing the questioning. She was as good as he was.

"I didn't kill any of them. I cut them up. I buried them. But only because I didn't know what else to do. What was I supposed to do, come to you people and tell you my wife kept killing people?"

The seemingly obvious reply was, "Why didn't you come to us the first time she did it?" But Halstead knew Burgess wouldn't go with that. Using confrontation so early in an interview with so much at stake would be unproductive overall, likely only serving to make the suspect either clam up or get aggressive.

"Why don't you start by telling us about the first person your wife murdered?" Burgess asked, assuming for the sake of discussion that his opening statement had been true.

"That was Lauren."

"Lauren Stevens?" Burgess asked for the clarity of the record.

"Yes, Lauren Stevens."

"Okay, tell me what happened with Lauren in as much detail as you can. She was working for you as a nanny, is that right?"

Layfield nodded. "That's right. I was obviously always busy running my construction company, so I had no time to look after the kids. Jillian never had much interest in doing it, so we decided to get a nanny. Lauren was the first one we took on. She was a really pretty girl, which is why I think Jillian wanted her."

"Where did you advertise for a nanny?" Burgess asked.

"Advertise? We didn't advertise. Jillian has always known so many people. It's something she made a point of. Lauren was one of those girls that was always falling out with her parents. She lived with her mum, had an argument with her, went to live with her dad, had an argument with him, and so on. So, Jillian offered her a place to live and a small amount of pay if she took on the job of looking after the kids."

"Lauren moved in on that basis?" Burgess asked.

Halstead sat there observing, calmly drinking his coffee.

"Yes, she did. And it wasn't long before Jillian started seducing her. She's always had a thing for pretty women. Threesomes weren't a rarity in our house at one time," Layfield boasted.

"Did you have a threesome with Lauren?" Burgess asked, keeping her voice devoid of any kind of emotion.

"Probably. I don't really remember. There were a lot of them."

"But you remember her being killed?"

"Of course I do!" Layfield objected. "I'm not going to forget something like that, am I?"

"Tell me what happened," Burgess instructed.

"It started out as sex. Sex between Jillian and Lauren, I mean. By that point Jillian had gotten Lauren smitten with her, and had been building up her experience with bondage. That kind of thing turns Jillian on the most. She always loved having a girl tied up and gagged while she made love to them."

Made love to them? Assaulted them was more like it, Halstead thought. He had seen the videos to prove it.

"And you liked to film her doing it," Burgess said evenly. "We've seen some of the footage."

"It was more that she liked me to film her. We'd put the tapes on and have sex while they played in the background."

The Layfields were seriously weird people, Halstead thought. But that wasn't exactly news, given they had a garden full of dead bodies.

"Let's get back to Lauren and how she was killed. You said it started out as sex."

"Right," Layfield nodded. "Jillian had Lauren tied up on the bed."

"What was she tied up with?"

"Bondage ropes. Her wrists and ankles were tied up, and I think she had tape over her mouth. Jillian would sometimes get bored of just sex, and she would, well, she would start hurting the girls instead. She got off on their pain and their vulnerability."

That much was true, Halstead knew from the video tapes.

"What surprised me was when Jillian asked me to help her get Lauren down to the basement. That was a new one on me. Right away, I knew why she wanted her down there."

Burgess finished off her coffee. "And why was that?"

"To torture her," Layfield said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Over the next half hour, Halstead witnessed Burgess extract details of one of the most horrific crimes he'd ever worked on. Lauren Stevens had been kept tied up and gagged in the basement for two days, while being subjected to appalling abuse. By the end, Halstead imagined that death had come as a relief to the poor girl when Jillian had finally used a belt to strangle her. The good news was that with all of the gruesome details on record, there was now more than enough evidence to arrest Jillian Layfield for murder, with more charges to follow for the other victims.

"We'll take a break here, John," Burgess decided. McMahon seemed relieved, having looked queasy for some time because of the graphic details. "You can go back to your cell and have something to eat. We'll speak again, and you can talk about the next victim."

A few minutes later, the Intelligence team reconvened in their room to discuss the state of the case, everyone apart from Halstead and Burgess having watched the interview from the observation room. The awful details of Lauren Stevens' torture had given everyone a reason to be sombre, but there was also delight that they now had the evidence to charge the sadistic Jillian Layfield with murder. Overall, it made for a rather odd atmosphere.

"We're now able to charge Jillian Layfield for murder," Lindsay said. "I'm going to go do that now. Atwater, Burgess, you've dealt with her the most. You can have the pleasure of joining me."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Atwater said.

The three of them left Intelligence, and Lindsay recruited Platt on the way to the cells so that she could open the one belonging to Jillian Layfield.

"I'm going to enjoy this," Burgess said.

"We all are," Lindsay said with a hint of a smile.

Platt opened the cell, and Jillian Layfield got up off of the distinctly uncomfortable bed. "What is it this time?" she asked grumpily. "Let me guess, another hike around the station so you can try and get me to speak to my husband?"

"Not this time," Lindsay said calmly as she stepped into the cell, with her team members behind her. "Jillian Layfield, I'm charging you with the murder of Lauren Stevens." She proceeded to read Jillian her rights.

"Charging me with murder? I've already told you a bunch of times, I've never killed anyone!" Jillian protested.

"Yeah, you have. But now your husband is telling us the opposite. And I'm expecting evidence to confirm his story when we do a full forensics workup of your house, and of everything we pull out of the graves in your garden. You and your husband will both be going to prison for life, where you belong. And the only time you'll see him again is when he's giving evidence against you at your trial. Your best option now is to tell us the whole truth, and get ahead of it before John does. You can have a couple of hours to think about it before Officers Burgess and Atwater speak to you later today."

Leaving Jillian standing there dumbfounded, Lindsay led Burgess and Atwater from the cell. They didn't wait for Platt, who set about locking the door behind them, and they were shortly back in Intelligence.

"How did that go?" Halstead asked when they walked back in.

"I think she actually thought she was going to get away with it," Lindsay said. "Being charged with murder seemed to come as a surprise to her. Now we've got that done, from tomorrow, the case will be handed over to Homicide."

"Can I ask why?" Purrazzo said, in curiosity, not impertinence.

"Because there are going to be dozens of interviews needed with both of those too, as well as a drawn out forensics investigation and analysis. It's likely going to go on for months. I already had Superintendent Kelton on the phone, expressing his view that working this case to a conclusion wouldn't be the best use of Intelligence Unit. We're not here for that kind of extensive interviewing. I agreed that once we had charged both Jillian and John with murder, the case will be turned over. It's going to go down as a successful case for Intelligence, so I want to congratulate you all on your hard work. Everyone in this unit played a part in cracking this one. Tonight, we're all going out for drinks, and I'm buying."

It was disappointing not to see the case all the way through, but Halstead could understand why. There would soon be another case requiring the specialities of Intelligence, and they would need to be able to respond to it. The main thing he had on his mind as everyone reacted positively to the idea of celebratory drinks was not the success of the unit, but the success of its boss. This was the first case where Erin had come into her own as a sergeant, which would do both her and the unit a lot of good. Their eyes met, and he mouthed, 'I'm proud of you.'

Erin smiled gratefully, but with a twinkle in her eyes. Free drinks were not going to be the only celebrations that night, he realised. There would be sex too, and he couldn't wait.

"Okay, listen up," Lindsay said, calming everyone down. "Today, we're still on the case. Burgess and Atwater are going to interview Jillian Layfield. John can wait until tomorrow with Homicide, so the rest of you are going to work on your case notes so we've got everything squared away for the handover. If Layfield continues to insist on only speaking to you, Burgess, I'm going to loan you to Homicide for that purpose. Everything clear?"

Affirmative responses came from everyone, including Burgess. She could hardly say no to a key role in such a big investigation.

"I'll leave you to it," Lindsay said, heading for her office.

Purrazzo looked at Halstead. "So, tomorrow...?"

"A new case. Who knows what it'll be."

_**END OF BOOK TWO** _


	31. Chapter 31

“You’re clear on the plan, Al?” Sergeant Erin Lindsay asked Detective Alvin Olinsky, her second-in-command. With them in her office was Detective Jay Halstead.

“Yes. When you send the signal, I wait ten minutes before sending the uniforms in to toss the place. They’ll have instructions to make sure you get away, without making it look at all like they’re letting you get away.”

“Perfect,” Lindsay said.

Going undercover was something Halstead hadn’t done for some time. Despite the dangers that kind of work brought, he was looking forward to it. He always found being undercover something of an adrenaline rush, and it could lead to successful closures of big cases if done right. Plus, on this occasion, he and Lindsay would be going under posing as a couple. In its own way that would be fun, since they actually were a couple. Fun wasn’t the objective, of course. There was an illegal gambling setup to infiltrate, and if their information had their facts right, there was some gun running going on as a side operation. The goal was to shut the whole thing down and arrest everyone involved. But getting that far was going to take time.

He knew that Lindsay wouldn’t have assigned herself to the undercover work out of choice. She was doing it out of necessity. Burgess wasn’t available for it because she had an infant son to care for, and Purrazzo couldn’t do it because she was too inexperienced. That left Erin as the only option, not that Jay was going to complain.

After another few minutes of conversation, Lindsay broke up the meeting and followed the two men out into the main Intelligence room. It was evening, and the shift was coming to an end. The team were tidying their desks and putting on their coats. It was only Lindsay, Halstead and Olinsky who were going to be pulling in the overtime money.

“Alright for some, isn’t it?” Lindsay said in humour. “I should have found something for the rest of you to do tonight.”

“We’ve got something to do. We’re heading to Molly’s,” Atwater quipped. ‘We’ clearly meant him and Purrazzo, who was standing near his desk.

“You kids have fun,” Olinsky said, his sense of humour making a rare appearance.

“We’re friends, Uncle Al,” Purrazzo chirped back at him, drawing laughter from everyone.

“Uncle? Or Grandpa?” Zelina Vega asked from where she was perched on Burgess’s desk.

“Careful, I’m in charge tomorrow. I’ll have you cleaning the bathrooms,” Olinsky said, to more laughter.

Lindsay spoke next. “Right, before Halstead and I go home to change, as you know, Olinsky will be in charge in my absence. Burgess, I want you working with Atwater. Ruzek, you’ll be with Purrazzo. Don’t teach her any more bad habits.”

“Understood,” Ruzek said with a grin.

“Stay safe,” Purrazzo said, directing it mainly at Halstead, who after all was her partner.

“Will do,” he said, and with that the group started to break up for the night. Halstead walked out with Lindsay and Olinsky.

“Pick me up from my place in an hour,” Lindsay said.

Halstead nodded. “You got it.” He couldn’t wait to see what she was going to wear for their undercover night out.

BREAK

Jay parked his car outside of Erin’s house exactly fifty seven minutes later. The thought crossed his mind that she hopefully wouldn’t live there much longer, one way or the other. Her search for somewhere else to rent was ongoing, as was her avoidance of his offer to officially move in with him. He understood that, though. Moving in with him would mean telling Voight, and telling Voight would mean drama, guaranteed. Right now, their relationship was good without drama, and he wanted to keep it that way as much as she did. Besides, Erin spent pretty much every night at his place anyway.

Taking out his phone, Jay sent Erin a text to say that he was outside. It felt more polite than leaning on the car horn.

No reply came, but a couple of minutes later the front door opened and Erin emerged. As expected, she looked stunning, wearing a tight-fitting red dress. She hadn’t bothered with a coat, which explained why she was quick to lock the door and rush to his car as fast as her heels would allow.

“You look great. Very handsome,” was her opener when she got into the car.

“Thanks,” Jay said. He had to admit, he did like his look - a nice black suit with a light purple shirt and a dark purple tie. Hers was a lot better though. To hell with undercover work, he wanted to take her somewhere for dinner and then go back to his place. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

“You think? I should have left work earlier. I don’t think I’ve ever rushed hair and makeup like that before. All I had time to eat was a pastry.”

“I threw a quick sandwich together. Hopefully we get to have something later.”

“Okay, let’s move,” she said. Understandably, she was mostly in work mode. After all, there was work to be done.

Jay got the car moving. He knew the destination, having visited it with Erin on a couple of previous occasions, also undercover. Their faces would now be somewhat known by the crew they were hoping to bring down.

“Have we got money to play with?” he asked.

“Yes. I’ve got five grand in my clutch, which we’ll split in half when we get there. I told the higher-ups that uniforms will end up seizing it back again anyway.”

“What if I’ve won some by the time they show up though?”

“Then you’re going to leave that behind too.”

Jay chuckled. “That’s not the answer I hoped for.”

Erin remained focused on the job at hand. “So, my CI has it worked out so that we’ll be on the closest table to the rear exit. When the uniforms bust in the front, we help everyone from our table to get the hell out of there, if we can. Main priority, make sure Martinez gets out. The uniforms will have obviously been told not to shoot us.”

Jay nodded, already clear on the plan in his own mind. The only issue was whether Martinez, the boss of the crew, was going to be there or not. The CI said so, but that was a long way from a certainty. “Now we just have to hope Martinez is there.”

“I’m reliably informed that’s going to happen,” Erin said with confidence in her CI.

“Good then. Let’s go wow them as the best looking couple in the place.”

Erin laughed at his deliberate corniness. “Would you shut up?”

“Yes, boss.”

BREAK

“Okay then, Sophia, let’s do this,” Halstead said, now in his undercover identity, as was Lindsay.

“Yes, Jesse, let’s do it. You really don’t look like a Jesse to me.”

“I think you look like a Sophia. Maybe more than an Erin,” he teased.

“Sshhh,” she said. 

They were walking up a fairly dingy alleyway towards a simple wooden door in the side of a building. There was a rather stereotypical-looking meathead on guard outside it, bald-headed and wearing a leather jacket. Fortunately, he was the same meathead who had been there on their other two visits, and would therefore recognise them.

So it proved to be. They were met with no response other than the door being opened for them, which was fine with Halstead.

Entering the building, they walked up a flight of bare wooden stairs to what was essentially a bar and a poker room, albeit not with proper poker tables. Here there were several large round tables, each with room to seat six players and a dealer. The room was pretty busy, with cash games in play at each of the tables.

“Good, Cheyenne’s at the back table, just like she told me. She’s the dealer,” Lindsay said quietly, referring to her CI.

“Got it. Do we order drinks at the bar?”

Lindsay laughed. “You’re impossible. And no, it looks like they have table service. And there’s Martinez at the bar.”

Halstead had just made the same realisation, recognising their target from the photos in the case file back at the station. Bayley Martinez was thirty five, although she looked younger. She wasn’t exactly attractive in the usual sense of the word, but there was something about her, he thought. Maybe he might have found her cute if he didn’t know she ran illegal gambling and gun running operations. Her black suit looked notably expensive, and her black hair was cut in a bob that actually suited her. Currently, she was drinking a beer and talking to the bartender.

“Let’s go sit down, when you’ve finished eyeing her up,” Lindsay said, giving him the side eye.

“I wasn’t eyeing her up. I was just... eyeing her up,” Halstead said with a mischievous grin.

Lindsay gave him a scowl that didn’t contain as much humour as he might have hoped for. “I’m eyeing up kicking you in the nuts.”

Halstead started leading her over to the far poker table. “No need for that, Sophia. We’re here to have a good time.”

“Yes, we are,” Lindsay said as they approached the table.

“Good evening,” the dealer called Cheyenne said, acting as if she new Lindsay and Halstead as nothing more than players she had seen before.

“Evening. Deal us in,” Halstead said, casually tossing two and half grand onto the table. If only he really had that kind of money to throw around, he thought. 

Erin’s money also went onto the table, and they received a few stacks of chips in return. There were three other players at the table, none of whom were familiar. Muttered greetings were exchanged without much interest.

When the next hand started, Halstead decided to focus on the game. For the time being, there was no better cover than trying to play well. A young woman who was waiting the tables soon came over to ask if they would like drinks. He ordered a single malt on the rocks for himself, and a glass of red wine for Erin.

Work could be harder, he thought when the drinks arrived a couple of minutes later. He didn’t need to be told that they were being put on a tab in a place like this, not that it was going to end up mattering.

The game proceeded for about twenty minutes, with Lindsay winning a couple of hands and showing a profit of about three hundred dollars. Then Bayley Martinez arrived at the table to play. She sat down next to the dealer and dropped a stack of money in front of her.

“Seen you two a couple of times. Haven’t met you,” Martinez said, studying Halstead and Lindsay for signs of anything suspicious about them. There was nothing Hispanic about her accent, which was somewhat surprising. There was some California in it.

“This is Sophia, and Jesse, I told you about them,” Cheyenne said respectfully.

“Good to meet you,” Lindsay said.

“Always good to see new players,” Martinez said, although it didn’t exactly sound like her enthusiasm was in danger of getting out of control.

“Good to have somewhere to play,” Halstead responded. “And Sophia’s luck seems to be with her.”

“We’ll see about that,” Martinez said with a hint of a smile as she was dealt into the next hand.

Lindsay folded her hand when her turn came to act. With no one paying attention to her, she moved her hands to her lap and pressed one of the buttons on the side of her watch. In fact it wasn’t her watch; it had been given to her earlier by Zelina Vega. The button she had just pressed would have sent a signal to Olinsky’s phone. That was his ten minute warning to have the uniforms storm the place.

Even though Halstead knew it was coming, the crash when the door at the bottom of the stairs flew open still made him jump. The sound of running feet could be heard coming up the stairs.

“Chicago PD!” an officer shouted.

Before he even got the word ‘Chicago’ out, Halstead was up and heading for the nearby door, knowing Lindsay would be right behind him. What mattered was that they helped Martinez to get out. Seconds were vital for it all to look convincing.

“Go! Go!” Lindsay shouted at the others from their table. Martinez, the dealer called Cheyenne, and one of the men reacted quickly enough. The other two players were not fast enough.

One of Martinez’s men, apparently on guard at the rear entrance, opened it from the outside and used a pistol to fire some wild covering shots high over the officers who swarmed up the stairs, shouting orders for nobody to move.

Meanwhile, Halstead frantically ushered the three women out of the door before dashing out and down the fire escape himself. The other player who had made it out came behind him, with the security guard last, fleeing with his boss to protect her.

On the way down the several flights of metal steps, the security man barged past everyone in order to catch up to Martinez, who had kicked off her heels in order to run faster, and the girl could move, Halstead saw. She ran like a Hispanic relation of Usain Bolt. Hanging around to get arrested was apparently way down her ‘things to do’ list.

A couple of uniforms came out onto the fire escape and started giving chase, yelling for those fleeing to stop, as if that was going to happen.

By the time they got down to the ground, in a dirty alleyway, Martinez and her man had already disappeared around the corner at the end. It wasn’t exactly how Lindsay had planned the escape to go down. She had wanted them to escape with Martinez if possible, so as to further demonstrate their capabilities and usefulness to her.

According to Cheyenne, Martinez was in need of more people who could handle themselves. Until a few months ago, the operation had been her father’s. When he had passed, some of the people who had been loyal to him had proven to be less so to his daughter. Lindsay and Halstead aimed to fill two of those spots if at all possible, so as to wrap up not only Martinez, but her whole crew, when the time came to slam the vice shut.

The other poker player ran off, leaving Halstead and Lindsay with Cheyenne at the end of the alleyway.

“Come with me, I’ll drive you home,” Cheyenne said. “We should be seen leaving together. You never know who’s watching.”

“Then go,” Lindsay said.

A couple of minutes later, the three of them were fleeing the scene in Cheyenne’s car.

“Shit,” Lindsay said under her breath from the back seat. Ever the perfectionist, she was angry that the plan hadn’t gone exactly as intended. “She really took off out of there. I wanted us to end up driving her home, or wherever she wanted to go.”

“Look on the bright side. You reacted the fastest, and got us out of there. I knew what was going to happen, and I was still convinced. Tomorrow morning, I’ll put a word in with that guy I told you about who’s sweet on me. He’s got Martinez’s ear. I’m confident he can get her interested in you, and get you in front of her, hopefully tomorrow.”

“You’re doing good work on this one, Cheyenne,” Lindsay said.

“Remember that when you pay me. I’ve got a daughter now. She’s going to need to be put through college one day.”

All Halstead could do now was go home and wait to see what happened. There was a chance that someone associated with Martinez might follow them to the safe house they were now going to use for an undercover home, which meant that going to work the next day was out of the question. For the time being, they would be staying under, and hoping for a call from Martinez or someone close to her.

A/N: You guys asked for another case, so here we go! What do you make of it so far?


	32. Chapter 32

The next morning, Erin emerged from the small safe house's master bedroom, laughing. "How are we going to explain the bed being broken?"

"Tell them the truth, someone didn't build it properly," Jay said from the kitchen, where he had the coffee machine going. The safe house wasn't much, but all of the essentials were there. There was also a double bed with a broken frame, thanks to some hot, vigorous sex the night before.

Erin walked into the kitchen, approached him, and kissed him on the lips. "That's not the whole truth."

"No, it's not. The coffee is almost done." Jay kissed her on the forehead. "Mmm, you always smell so good when you've had a shower."

"Not as good as this coffee smells," she said, pushing past him to the machine. The first cup was done, so she handed it to him.

"Black and strong, perfect," he said, taking a sip.

Erin got the machine going again for herself. "Do you think Martinez will be in contact today?"

"I hope so. Cheyenne seems to know what she's talking about, and she seemed confident. But we've got to keep in mind when we speak to her that our aliases were not looking to work for Martinez. We were after some guns on the down low for a bank job. And now we're pissed off because we just lost five grand in her place."

"Yep. That's how Jesse and Sophia will look at it. But of course we want a way in so we can start working on taking her down, so we've got to be careful how we play it."

Jay had a moment of inspiration. "We could have a bit of a disagreement with each other in front of her, make like you're reluctant to work for her, but I talk you into it. That might make the whole thing more convincing for her."

"Hmm. That might actually not be a bad idea," Erin said thoughtfully. "Yes, let's do that, if it feels right at the time."

When they both had their drinks, they went through to the living area and sat down. There was little to do but wait for a phone call that they hoped to receive.

"Feels weird not heading into the office right now," Erin grumbled. "I can't help myself wondering what's going to happen and if everything's going to be okay. I'm glad I had Al to hand it over to."

"He'll keep a steady ship for sure. And there are still two solid partnerships, Kim and Kevin, and Ruze and Purrazzo."

"Burgess is Kim, but Purrazzo is Purrazzo?"

"Well, yeah," Jay chuckled. "I don't think I've ever called her Deonna. It feels weird. She's always going to be Purrazzo to me."

Erin sipped from her coffee cup, almost hiding a smile. "Think there's something going on with her and Atwater?"

"I have no idea, I'm her partner not her dad."

"But you feel protective of her. That's only natural, since she's your partner."

"Purrazzo doesn't need my protection, I'm sure of that."

Erin laughed softly, done trying to needle him. "I think you might be right about that. At least we got Kim back from Homicide before this case came up."

Yes, it had worked out well, Jay thought. Burgess had spent several weeks on loan to Homicide, dealing with John Layfield on their behalf as he refused to talk to anyone else. By all accounts she had done well, bit by bit extracting details of the appalling crimes committed by Layfield and his wife.

Over time, Layfield had been weaned off his Burgess insistence, and was now talking to a female detective from Homicide. It would take some time, but there was little doubt that both Layfields would go to prison for life when their trials came around. It was a successful case, and justice for the many victims and their families.

"Yes, she did very good work on that case," Jay said.

"She did." Erin paused for a second. "You know, when I'm back in the office, there's something I'm going to address. We've only got two detectives on the team. That's not good enough for an elite unit like Intelligence. I want Burgess, Ruzek and Atwater all qualified as detectives. Purrazzo obviously needs a few years of experience."

"I can see where you're coming from," Jay said in a measured tone. "Just keep in mind that Ruze and Kim have Alex. They can't both work, go for detective, and look after him. Might be an idea to let them do it one at a time."

Erin considered that. "You're probably right. Managing my people is something I need to get better at, isn't it? You have more of an instinct for it than I do."

"You'll get there," he said with confidence.

"Thanks, Jay. Yeah, I will. I'm going to put the TV on. We might have a long day ahead of us if that call doesn't come in."

* * *

It was nearly two hours later when Halstead's burner phone rang. Both he and Lindsay had one for this undercover job, and Cheyenne had been provided with both numbers.

"Here we go," he said, picking the phone up off the table. "Wonder if it will be Martinez herself, or someone under her?"

"We'll soon know," Erin said, moving close to him so that she might be able to hear both sides of the conversation.

Halstead answered the call. "Hello?"

"Jesse?" a woman's voice asked. It sounded like Martinez.

"That's me," he answered casually.

"Bayley Martinez. I'm about to text you an address. We're going to talk about what happened last night, so get that girlfriend of yours or whatever she is, and get your asses over here now. And I do mean now."

"Talk about last night?" he asked, but he was already talking to a dead call.

"She's not a happy woman," Lindsay observed dryly.

"Not at all. And it sounds like she's of a mind to blame us for what happened."

"Well, we'll just have to dissuade her from that, won't we? It shouldn't be hard to do that. After all, there's no link between either of us and what happened. And we can push the narrative that we're pissed off about the money we lost."

Halstead's phone beeped. He opened the text message, finding an address in one of the city's wealthiest suburbs. He read it out to Lindsay.

"Someone's doing well for themselves," Lindsay said.

"Yes. Either that, or someone's dad did well for themselves. What do you say we go and find out?"

Erin took her own phone out of her pocket. "I'll get us an Uber. Add the fact that we had to leave our car behind to the list of reasons Jesse and Sophia have to be pissed off."

BREAK

The house in question wasn't a mansion, but it was bigger and more expensive than anything Halstead and Lindsay were ever going to afford by working for the Police Department.

After getting out of the Uber, Halstead took a moment to take in the property they were visiting while he waited for Lindsay to join him. Modern, single storey, with a flat roof, part of which was a terrace for use in warmer weather. Around it was a wall high enough to stop someone climbing over without a ladder. He was able to see the house through the currently open gateway. There were huge metal gates that would be very tough to get through when they were closed.

Given the backstory he was aware of, Halstead had to assume that the late Martinez father had either built or bought and renovated the place. Either way, work had been done with security in mind. Assuming the old man had passed his good sense onto his daughter and their crew, these were not people to underestimate. That was his first impression.

"Nice ride," quipped a guy in a very dark blue suit, who was standing at the bottom of the driveway, presumably sent to wait for their arrival.

"We got a call from Bayley Martinez asking us to come here," Lindsay said, appearing next to Halstead as the Uber driver pulled away in his Prius. She had ignored the quip, which Halstead knew would have taken some effort on her behalf.

"Asking you? That's a good one. Follow me."

Apparently Martinez didn't do much asking, Halstead thought. Saying nothing, he and Lindsay followed the man up the driveway to the front door, and into the house. It didn't escape his attention that the gates closed behind them. They could only leave if and when they were allowed to.

Inside, Halstead found himself in a freshly decorated entrance hallway. The decoration, furniture, ornaments and paintings on the walls were all in a modern style, telling him that Bayley had redone it all after inheriting the place. She was now the queen of her castle, undoubtedly.

"This way," the man said, heading towards a door on the left side. When he got there, he knocked on it, opened it, and led them in. "Your visitors, Ms Martinez," he announced.

Halstead followed Lindsay into what was a large, luxurious living room. There were a real fire roaring in a massive fire place at the far end, warming the room up beautifully, around which Martinez and several men were sitting on couches and chairs, apparently having been in discussion about something. It didn't take much to figure out the topic. They all looked at the arrivals with hostile expressions. Martinez in particular had one on her face that looked like it might turn them to stone. She didn't loom cute in that moment, that was for sure. In fact, Halstead felt concerned for his safety, and that didn't happen often.

The boss got up off her chair in a deliberate manner and started to walk towards them.

"So, who's going to tell me why my poker room got raided?"

* * *

_A/N: How will Halstead and Lindsay talk themselves out of this one?_


	33. Chapter 33

Indignance was the best way to respond, Halstead decided in the few seconds available to him as Bayley Martinez walked across the room towards him and Lindsay.

"I don't know why it was raided, and I don't appreciate the accusation you're obviously making," he said.

Martinez cocked her head slightly to one side and spoke with menace in her voice. "Do I look stupid to you, Jesse? You turn up three times and suddenly I get raided. I was lucky to make it out of there."

"No, you don't look stupid to me. And I'd hope we don't look stupid to you. If we were cops, do you think we'd be standing here now? We'd have to have a death wish."

"And besides," Lindsay joined in, "if I were a cop, I'd have had people on that rear fire escape before I came in the front door, and you wouldn't have gotten away."

"Not to mention that it was my quick reaction that helped you get up and out of there before those cops got up the stairs and had a chance to have their guns aimed at you," Halstead said. "If I had to guess, I'd say they followed you there, not us."

Martinez looked sour about it, but her expression softened fractionally. It now seemed she didn't actually think they were cops, or responsible for what had happened. She had been trying to intimidate them, and to an extent it had worked.

"Truth is, I don't think you're cops. You'd be dead if I did. But there is something about you two, that much I do know," the boss said. "You weren't just there to play cards."

"You're right," Lindsay said. "We were there to meet you. Heard you'd be able to get us guns. Untraceable ones."

"What do you want guns for?"

"We're planning a bank job," Halstead said.

"A bank job," Martinez scoffed. "That's a fucking good idea, if you want to get arrested and do thirty years. Anyway, I don't know anything about any untraceable guns. I don't know much about you," Martinez said. The implication was that if she trusted them, she may well have been able to hook them up. "However, I've asked around about you, and I've been told you're competent, trustworthy, and definitely not cops. So, what you're going to do is prove it. Do that, and we can start to forget last night's unpleasantness, or at least my anger at you about it."

"Wait, let me get this right," Lindsay said. "We come to your poker room to play cards and maybe do a bit of business, and we end up losing five grand and being expected to work for you? What kind of scam are you..."

"Let's hear her out, Sophia," Halstead cut in, liking the role Lindsay was playing.

"You should listen to him," Martinez advised. "And in future, take some of that bass out of your voice when you speak to me."

"We're listening. You're proposing we work for you?"

"No, I'm giving you a chance to prove yourselves. If you do that, then maybe you can work for me, and that would be profitable for you. If not, I might as well cut my losses and use your asses to send a message to anyone who might want to fuck with me. So, which way do you want to proceed?"

Lindsay stood there with an annoyed expression on her face, letting Halstead handle the conversation.

"Profitable, you say? How profitable are we talking?" he asked.

"Never mind that. You've got a job to do before we get that far. I don't take on new people often, or easily. If people hadn't vouched for you, you wouldn't be here right now."

"What job?" Lindsay asked in a surly manner.

"I don't like her tone," one of the men sitting by the fire said.

"No, I don't like it either," Martinez said, moving to stand almost nose to nose with Lindsay. "Maybe I got bad advice that these two can be useful. I sure don't have use for people with a bad attitude."

Back off, Erin, Halstead thought. She had kept to her character, but if she pushed too hard they both might get beaten up or even killed. At the very least the mission would be a failure.

"Okay, I'm sorry," Lindsay said. "I'm not trying to piss you off. Almost getting pinched, losing five grand, then being accused of being behind the whole thing all got to me, and yes, it did make me angry. But you're offering us profitable work? Like Jesse asked a minute ago, how profitable?"

"Profitable enough for you not to be sweating five grand," Martinez said. "Like I said a minute ago, you've got to prove yourselves before we get that far."

"So what's the job?" Halstead asked.

"A guy by the name of Angel Garza, runs an auto repair business and a chop shop called Angel's Autos. He owes me fifty grand, and has already had his one and only warning about paying it. You're going to go get it from him. Rodrigo, go with them and report back to me on their performance."

Martinez had clicked her fingers at the mention of Rodrigo's name, and the man who had shown them into the house had stepped forward.

"Yes, boss," he said.

"And if this Garza doesn't pay?" Halstead asked.

"Break his legs," Martinez said simply.

"You want us to break the guy's legs?" Lindsay asked with a slight raise of her eyebrows.

"Was I in some way unclear?" Martinez said, the glare returning to her face.

"Not at all," Halstead said. "What are we getting paid for this little errand?"

Martinez laughed dismissively. "Paid? This isn't about money. You're proving yourselves to me, and helping to allay the suspicions I have about you."

"Nice try, but we don't work for free," Lindsay said. "We're already down five grand, so that's what you'll pay us. Ten per-cent isn't much, and it gets us back to even. I can live with that."

Martinez looked almost perplexed for a moment. "You know, I'm not sure if I really dislike you, or if I kind of like you. You can have two and a half grand for the job. Now get out of my sight, and don't even think about coming back without my money."

Halstead followed Rodrigo and Lindsay out of the room, and back out of the front door. Overall, he felt okay about how it had gone with Martinez. She didn't think they were cops, and they had made an okay impression, without seeming like pushovers. But being instructed to break this Angel Garza guy's legs was not good. Undercover police work still had rules, and it was obvious which side of the line breaking people's legs fell on.

"Wait here, I'll get a car," Rodrigo said, heading off to the large garage at the side of the house.

Being left alone with Lindsay for a moment was a blessing for Halstead. The decision he was seeking had to be made by the senior member of the team, which was her. "What if this guy doesn't pay? Are we really going to break his legs?" he asked under his breath.

"Only if we absolutely have to. We have to get in with Martinez, so we'll do it if we must. It's not like we can avoid it with this asshole there keeping watch on us. Plan A is absolutely to make Garza pay without breaking his legs."

"Understood."

An engine fired up, and a black Lexus drove out of the garage. Even the hired help travelled in style and comfort, apparently.

Parking next to them, Rodrigo spoke through his open window. "Get in."

"Let's get something straight," Halstead said, deciding to show some backbone himself. "Martinez might get to order us around, you don't. Your job is to drive, and observe. So you worry about what you're doing, and we'll worry about what we're doing."

"Just get in," Rodrigo said, giving no indication if Halstead's words had been taken in or ignored.

Halstead got in the front, while Lindsay chose to sit behind him in the back. Since Rodrigo's body language made it apparent that he wasn't interested in small talk, they made the ten minute drive to Angel's Autos in silence.

"I'm just here to watch you," Rodrigo said after killing the engine. "Don't look to me for help. You had better perform, because I'll be telling Ms Martinez exactly what happens here. You need to impress her."

"We'll impress her when we give her fifty grand," Lindsay said, and with that she got out of the car.

Following her lead, Halstead also got out. They took a moment to eye up Angel's Autos. There was nothing remarkable about it at all. There were two cars in the shop, both lifted off the ground, being worked on by a mechanic each. Another car stood outside the entrance, waiting for its turn to be serviced. It looked like nothing more than a regular auto repair business, which was of course good cover for a chop shop.

"First things first, let's find out which one's Garza," Halstead said, knowing better than to bother asking Rodrigo.

"Yep, let's do it," Lindsay said.

They walked into the shop and approached one of the mechanics, who was carrying out an oil change.

"Hi. Looking for Angel Garza," Halstead said in a nondescript tone.

The mechanic looked at him with an expression that said white people were not frequent visitors here, or welcome ones. "He not here."

"He's really not here, or he is here but you want us to go away?" Lindsay asked with an edge to her voice.

The mechanic looked at them both again, and Rodrigo behind them, now wondering who these people were. He was never going to be a good poker player. "He not here."

"You're not a good liar, sir," Halstead said. "We don't want any trouble with you, but one way or another we're going to speak to Garza."

Deciding it wasn't his hill to die in, the mechanic gave a small gesture with his head to a door at the back of the shop, next to a roller shutter door that was closed. There was likely a yard out back, where the stolen chop shop cars were kept.

Halstead and Lindsay went over to the door, he opened it, and they stepped out into a fairly large yard. There were four cars out there. The hood of one of them was up, with a man with long black hair and dirty blue overalls doing something to the engine. Halstead noticed that a tall metal fence topped with razor wire surrounded the yard. It was good for security, but bad for running away from debt collectors. Garza was going nowhere.

"Angel Garza?" Halstead called out.

Garza stood up and eyed them suspiciously. "Who's asking?"

"Bayley Martinez, indirectly," Lindsay said as they approaching him. "You owe her fifty thousand dollars. Today is pay day."

"You work for Martinez? Since when is she hiring people like you?" He obviously meant white people.

"Since she needed debt collectors," Halstead said. "She mentioned you already had your one and only warning about paying, so I assume you have the money by now. Hand it over, things can be dealt with pleasantly, and we can be on our way."

"And if I don't?" Garza said, challenging them.

"We have instructions to start by breaking your legs," Halstead said.

"Honestly? We don't like doing that kind of thing," Lindsay added. "But ultimately, it's going to be up to you. One way or another, we'll be getting fifty grand from you."

"I got two other guys in there," Garza said, trying to make a threat.

"You want us to fuck them up too?" Halstead asked. "That's something I really don't want to do. Come on, you owe the money, pay up, and we can all go about our business. We all know you don't want to be on the wrong side of Martinez. It'll end up costing you a lot more than a few weeks in hospital and a few months in a wheelchair. She'll take everything from you. All that for the sake of fifty grand, which I'm willing to bet you already have here somewhere."

Garza took time to study them, and Rodrigo, before he made a decision. His attitude abruptly changed as he tried to appear friendly. "The money is in my safe. Come with me, I'll get it."

The mechanic walked by them, giving Halstead a second to flash a grin at Lindsay. Assuming there were no tricks coming, they had gotten the job done without violence, which was no doubt the best outcome. Only in action movies did people go around actively seeking to get involved in breaking people's legs in the middle of the day, at their place of work.

Rodrigo showed no reaction to their work as the trio followed Garza back into the shop, where he showed them into a small and very untidy office. There was a safe in the wall at the far end.

"Tell Martinez I was going to swing by in the next couple of days and pay her anyway. There was no need for all of this."

"Well, I'd imagine it can be put in the past once she's got her money," Lindsay said.

Garza opened the safe and took out a white plastic bag. He handed it over to Halstead, who opened it and saw several bundles of notes with rubber bands around them.

"It's all there. You don't have to spend half the morning counting it," Garza said.

Halstead thumbed through a couple of the bundles to make sure he wasn't being handed forged notes. They were genuine. "It had better all be here, or you know we'll be back."

"It's all there," Garza repeated. "Tell her I'll be in contact if I need more guns."

"I'll do that," Halstead said. More guns, he thought. So Garza was into more than stolen cars, and Martinez was definitely into guns, as they had suspected.

"Hopefully we won't see you again," Lindsay said, and with that they walked out of the office.

Once they were out of the auto shop, Rodrigo held out his hand to take the plastic bag from Halstead.

"No chance," Halstead said. "You did nothing to get this, we did. So we'll be the ones who give it to Martinez. You do your job and drive the car."

They had done well, Halstead thought. Hopefully it would be enough for Martinez to be interested in giving them more work. That was what they needed in order to start properly infiltrating her crew.

* * *

_A/N: Halstead and Lindsay did the job they were given without having to resort to violence. Will it impress Martinez when they return to her?_


	34. Chapter 34

Upon arriving back at Bayley Martinez's house, 'Jesse' and 'Sophia' accompanied Rodrigo inside. Halstead was still in possession of the bag full of cash, determined to hand it over to the leader of the organisation and no one else.

"We need to see the boss," Rodrigo said to another man in a smart suit. Halstead was starting to get a feel for the dress code around the place, and he wasn't currently measuring up to it.

"She's in her office," the unnamed suit said.

Halstead and Lindsay followed Rodrigo, who of course knew where to go. The office was upstairs, they learned. When they got there, Rodrigo knocked quietly on the door. It was a knock of deference and respect. Martinez might have lost some of the people who had been loyal to her father, but the ones who remained were likely very loyal to her.

"Come," Martinez's voice called from inside.

Rodrigo opened the door and led them in.

"Ah, Rodrigo, anything to report?" Martinez asked.

Halstead found the boss sitting behind a sturdy old wooden desk. There was a computer setup on the desk, which he would have loved to get a chance to explore. Sitting on the other side of the desk was a tall Hispanic woman, who looked at the new arrivals with hostility. A good judge of character, Halstead assessed her immediately as someone not to be fucked with. Possibly one of Martinez's bodyguards, he thought, although the suit she had on looked a bit too expensive for a bodyguard. No introductions were made.

"Yes, boss," Rodrigo said. "They got the money. Talked Garza into handing it over without any violence."

"Really?" Martinez said quietly. She took a second to eye Halstead and Lindsay up, maybe giving them a second appraisal now that they had shown competence. They didn't receive any praise or gratitude for their work, though. Martinez just held her hand out for the plastic bag that Halstead was holding.

"It's all there," he said, handing it over.

"Wouldn't be much good if it wasn't," Martinez said dryly. She took the bag and handed it to the as yet unnamed woman. "Count it."

The woman methodically emptied the bundles of notes onto the desk, then started counting through them. Martinez watched on intently, while the other three were left to awkwardly stand there and wait. Halstead hoped Garza hadn't been stupid enough to short change them because that would come down on his and Lindsay's asses before it came down on Garza's. Maybe it would have been better to insist on counting the money back at the auto shop.

Several minutes dragged by, with the sound of paper notes being counted the only thing to occupy the silence. It made for quite a tense atmosphere, which Halstead imagined was to Martinez's satisfaction.

"It's all there," the hard-faced woman reported eventually.

"Count out two and half," Martinez instructed.

The woman obeyed the order.

"Give it to him," Martinez said.

"Thank you," Halstead said as he accepted the payment.

"Okay, get out," Martinez said, giving a dismissive hand gesture towards the door.

"Is that it?" Lindsay demanded.

Martinez raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"You're not going to give us more work?"

"I don't know yet," the boss replied, staring Lindsay out.

Once Lindsay glanced away and lost the altercation, Martinez spoke again. "If you do work for me again, you'd better dress appropriately. You're a disgrace, both of you. Now get out. I'm not accustomed to telling people things twice. Rodrigo, show them to the gate."

Deciding to keep in character as the more respectful one of the two, Halstead gave the boss a polite nod before turning to leave.

Rodrigo took his now familiar position in the lead, and walked them out of the front door and down the driveway. The gates were already opening, possibly at the push of a button from Martinez's office, Halstead guessed.

"Thanks for your company today," Lindsay quipped at Rodrigo when the time came for them to part ways.

"That mouth's going to get you in a lot of trouble," Rodrigo said as a parting shot.

Halstead managed not to smile as he took his phone out of his pocket. "I guess I'll book us another Uber. We need to go and get the car back."

* * *

Erin and Jay had waited until they were back at their safe house, now with their undercover car back in their possession, to discuss the day's work. With his priorities in the correct order, Jay had fixed them a cup of coffee each before joining Erin on the couch in the living room. This was one of those weird times in their relationship where they were on personal time, but work was the topic of conversation.

"So how do you think that went?" Erin asked him, taking the cup that he offered her.

"I think it went well. We were given a job and we got it done without having to get violent. I'm glad it didn't come to that."

"I am too, obviously," Erin said, but she looked a bit unconvinced. "The only thing is, do you think Martinez wanted us to break his legs?"

"They job she gave us was to get the money, or break his legs if he didn't pay. He paid. We did exactly what she told us to do."

"I suppose you're right," Erin said thoughtfully. "Think I might have pissed her off a bit too much."

Jay chuckled. "I think you probably pissed her off. But too much? No, I don't agree. We would have looked a lot more suspect if we'd have both gone in there all subservient. By not being exactly what she might have wanted in new hires, we looked legit."

"Yes," Erin nodded. "So we'll continue in the same way. Hopefully she doesn't order us to do anything violent again. But if she does, follow my lead. We'll rough a few people up if we have to in order to gain trust from Martinez. We need to get into the gun running side of things. We've got to know when and where a big handover is taking place so that we can get Olinsky to come in with a raid. I want the whole crew rolling up."

Halstead had already known the plan of course. "Right. I'm thinking it might take some time to gain that level of trust with her. She still seemed dismissive and a bit suspicious of us. Probably doesn't help that we're white. We don't exactly fit in with the rest of them."

"Shame I couldn't have sent Z under with you."

That made Halstead laugh. The thought of Zelina Vega giving Martinez some of her attitude was quite something. But then 'Sophia' hadn't exactly held back either. And it had been quite a turn on. "I think all she would have brought to the table is sass, and you seem to have that covered. Not going to lie, it turned me on a little bit."

Erin grinned and raised an eyebrow slightly. "A little bit?"

"Alright, a lot." He moved in a started kissing the side of her neck.

"Let me put this drink down," Erin said, giggling. She attempted to put her cup on the coffee table, but she only managed to put it on the edge and it fell on the floor.

"Now we've ruined a carpet and a bed," she said, lying back to relish the attention she was getting.

"I don't care," Jay said between kisses.

Erin wrapped her arms around him. "Neither do I."

* * *

The next morning, with Bayley Martinez's words in mind, Halstead and Lindsay had gone downtown to buy themselves some smart suits to wear. The suits hadn't come cheap, but Lindsay would be able to claim the expenses back once the undercover operation was over.

"That's really nice. I like that one a lot," Halstead said.

Lindsay was trying on a light grey suit, and had come out of the changing room to get his opinion on it.

"Here, put your glasses on with it," he said, handing her the black aviator sunglasses that she had left in his custody.

Erin put the glasses on and posed with a hand on her hip.

"I don't know about Martinez, you look like a boss lady to me," Halstead said. It was hard for him not to take her into the changing rooms for some risky and inappropriate sex.

"So I take it I'm buying this one?" Lindsay asked with a wry smile on her face.

"Absolutely," he said.

She handed the glasses back to him and went back into the changing room to put her civvies back on. She had just gotten undressed when her phone rang, making her groan at the timing. Then she realised that she only had her undercover phone with her. Only Cheyenne or someone from the Martinez crew had that number. She mentally slipped back into character as Sophia before answering.

"Hello?"

"Sophia Bush?" a familiar voice asked.

"Yes?" Lindsay replied, pretending not to know who she was talking to.

"Bayley Martinez. Come to the house."

"Uh, okay. When?"

"When? Now!" Martinez snapped, as if considering anything else was an insult.

"I'll run to my car," Lindsay quipped, and ended the call.

* * *

_A/N: What do you think Martinez might have in store for them this time?_


	35. Chapter 35

There was no one waiting for Halstead and Lindsay this time when they pulled up out front of Bayley Martinez's house. In fact the gates were closed.

"I assume we're not supposed to break in," Halstead quipped as they got out of the car.

"Would give us a chance to show off some skills. But would probably also get us killed. I think it'll be safer to use the intercom," Lindsay said, pointing to a metal box on the wall beside the gate. They set off towards it.

"That's why you're the smart one of the two of us," he said.

Lindsay eyed him up in his very nice black suit, clearly liking what she saw a lot. "You look pretty smart to me."

"I'm sensing something else in the house might get destroyed tonight," Halstead said, thinking of their recent record of trashing the place during sex.

Lindsay smiled at him. "I think we could quite easily have the shower curtain down."

"Hold that thought," Halstead said as they reached the gate, and its intercom. He was about to press the button, but the gate started opening without him needing to. They had likely been spotted on a camera somewhere, not that he could see one.

"Well, there we go," Lindsay said.

"We don't need an escort this time. Aren't we privileged?"

Walking up the driveway, Halstead noticed the gates closing behind them. As before, there were several cars parked on the driveway. The house was going to be full of suspect people in suits again. Before they got to the front door, it opened and a man stood in the doorway.

"Ms Martinez wants to see you in her office. Come with me."

"We know where it is," Lindsay said.

Halstead had to make himself avoid smiling. 'Sophia' couldn't help backchatting people.

The man didn't reply. Much like Rodrigo, he seemed like a man of few words. Martinez probably liked that about them.

Halstead saw several other people walking about on the way up to the office, but he didn't recognise any of them. Shortly, they arrived at the office, where the man left them to it. Halstead took it upon himself to knock on the door.

"Come," Martinez called from within.

He opened the door and walked into the office. Martinez was sitting behind the desk. In front of it was the tall, hard-looking woman who had done the money counting the day before.

"Ah, Jesse and Sophia," Martinez said. "Nice to see you own some clothes worthy of the description after all."

Even 'Sophia' resisted having a quip at that, which was probably to her credit.

"Tell me, why didn't you break Angel Garza's legs yesterday?" Martinez asked. She leant back in her chair, keenly awaiting the answer. The other woman just glowered at them.

Lindsay said, "Your instructions were to go and get fifty grand out of him. You said we should break his legs if he didn't pay. He paid. If you wanted us to go over there and break his legs, that should have been your instruction."

"We did do what you asked," Halstead said a little more diplomatically.

"Yes, I suppose you did," Martinez said thoughtfully. "But you're no good to me if you're going to shy away from getting physical if it's needed."

"Getting physical isn't a problem, if it's needed," Lindsay said. This time there was no attitude in her voice.

Martinez considered that for a moment before coming to a decision. "Alright, here's the way things are. The two of you are clearly determined to work for me. You're in luck because I happen to need a couple of competent people. This is Raquel Gonzalez. She's in charge of security around here. You're going to work for her. I don't want to see or hear either of you unless I choose to speak to you. You do what Raquel says, when she says, how she says. To you, she speaks with my authority. Is any of that unclear?"

"No, ma'am," Halstead said. Inside, he was happier than he showed outwardly. They were in, at least in a fashion.

"What's the work? What's the pay?" Lindsay wanted to know.

"The work is whatever Raquel tells you to do. Do that, and you'll be paid. If that doesn't work for you, feel free to fuck off."

Back off, Erin, Halstead thought. She was right on the line of pushing Martinez too far again.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that to come out the wrong way," Lindsay said, immediately showing more respect. "Was just asking what we'll be doing, and how good the money is. I didn't mean any offense."

"Security work. And the money is good," Raquel said, getting up out of her chair. It was the first time they had seen her on her feet. She was as tall as Halstead was, and not built much differently. Nonetheless, she wasn't an unattractive woman. "For now, I don't need you. Go home. I'll call you when you're wanted."

"You got it," Halstead said, and he followed Lindsay out of the office.

* * *

'When you're wanted' had turned out to be that evening. Halstead had gotten a call from Raquel, who had given him an address for a club. It was a safe bet that the only reason Bayley Martinez, and therefore her security, would be there was because it was going to be the venue for some illegal card games she was hosting. It hadn't taken her long at all to get that venture going again, which showed how fruitless police work could be at times.

"What do you think we're going to be told to do?" Lindsay asked from the passenger seat as they neared the club.

"Security work seems pretty obvious. And since we're at the bottom of the food chain, I'm guessing we'll be working the doors, standing out in the cold. That's why I brought these just in case." Lindsay referred to the beanie hat and leather gloves that were currently in her lap.

"You're probably right," Halstead grumbled. Thanks to TV shows and movies there was a misconception that undercover police work was all action and excitement. In reality it was often tedious and boring, which was highly likely to be the case on this particular night. But it would be small progress towards the goal of earning enough trust from Martinez to be included in her gun running activities.

"There's the place," Lindsay said, pointing up ahead, on the left side of the road.

"Yep. And there's Raquel with a couple of the guys."

Their new boss was standing in the parking lot, near a couple of cars. It looked like she was giving orders to the two men who were with her. Halstead got the impression that Martinez wasn't at the club yet; security was being put in place ahead of her arrival.

He parked up next to the other two cars, and they both got out.

"You're in time, barely," Gonzalez said after a glance at an expensive-looking watch.

"In time is in time," Lindsay replied. They hadn't wanted to show up early in case they aroused suspicion by appearing overly eager.

"Okay, smart ass," Gonzalez said with some heat in her voice. "Since I hear you like making a big deal about fire escapes, that's where you're going to be all night. No one comes in that way. And if you see anything suspicious, you call me straight away. You both have my number saved?"

"Yes, ma'am," Halstead said, keeping up his part as the more respectful of the two.

"I seem to recall your man on the fire escape last time had a gun," Lindsay said.

"Yes, he did. But you don't. Now move," Gonzalez snarled, pointing towards a fire escape door at the rear corner of the building.

Halstead and Lindsay headed off along the side of the building.

"You're good at needling them a bit, but not going too far," he said.

"I'm good at preparing for eventualities too," Lindsay said, flashing him a beautiful smile as she put her gloves on.

Halstead thought about making a joke about that being why she was a sergeant and he was a detective, but it wasn't the time or the place. "I feel like this might be a long night," he said instead.

"Yes," Lindsay sighed. "I suspect very long."

* * *

"More than three weeks, Jay. I'm going to get serious grief for this when we come out the other side," Lindsay grumbled one morning over breakfast.

Yes, more than three weeks, Halstead thought. Three weeks on security duty for Bayley Martinez, or more accurately for Raquel Gonzalez. Raquel had turned out not to be all that bad a person to take orders from once she had accepted them. The only problem was that the security work didn't seem to be getting them any closer to the gun running side of things. Martinez and Gonzalez occasionally went off with some of the guys, presumably on gun business, but Halstead and Lindsay were always left at the house. If it went on much longer, they were going to have to come up with a plan B to get the undercover operation moving. He did feel like things would change soon though.

"I think Martinez might have still been harbouring suspicions about us when she hired us. It's possible she figured if we were cops we wouldn't spend weeks doing these mundane jobs. But we have done what we've been told, and done it well. For now, don't worry about the time it's taking. When we end this thing with Martinez and her crew in handcuffs, no one is going to give a shit how long it took."

Lindsay ruminated on that for a while, eating her bacon and eggs and drinking her coffee. "You're right," she decided eventually. "We'll keep at it. We're going to get her, Jay. We're going to get them all."

Halstead smiled at her. "Yeah, we are."

* * *

Nine days later, almost to the minute, Halstead's phone rang. He had just gotten out of the shower. The phone was on top of the toilet, so he was able to lean over and see a surprising name on the screen. He and Lindsay only ever got calls from Raquel Gonzalez, but this one was from Bayley Martinez.

"Good morning, Ms Martinez," he said upon answering it. She had no way to know he was standing naked in a bathroom.

"Morning. Come over to the house, both of you."

He didn't need to ask if she meant now. Bayley Martinez always meant now when she told people to do things. The greeting was new, though. It showed that he and Erin had progressed from the status of barely useful pieces of crap to the status of useful underlings. Progress.

"We'll be right over," Halstead assured the boss.

The call was terminated at the other end without reply.

"Erin! We're in business!" he yelled.

Moments later, her voice came from the other side of the door. "What do you mean?"

"Martinez just called me. Wants us over to the house immediately. This has to be gun business," he replied, doing the world's quickest job of getting dressed. He opened the door, putting a t-shirt on. He expected to see Lindsay looking excited. But no, she actually looked sceptical. "What's wrong?"

"Even if this is gun business, or should I say we're told this is gun business, it could be a test. I don't want to have Olinsky show up with the team to raid the place and make arrests, only to find there's nothing illegal going on."

Halstead looked at her with surprise, but he took her seriously. "You think Martinez would pull something like that? Why?"

"Because it's what I'd do."

* * *

_A/N: What do you think Martinez wants them for? Gun business? A test? Or something else?_


	36. Chapter 36

Raquel Gonzalez met Halstead and Lindsay when they entered Bayley Martinez's house. She was all business, as most often seemed to be the case.

"We have a couple of guys out of town on business. That means you're needed on security for a delivery that is being made today. This is increased trust and responsibility you're being given. You had better prove you're worth it."

"Glad to be chosen. What do we need to do? Do we need to report to Ms Martinez? It was her who called me," Halstead said.

"She's not here. What you're going to do is ride with me in a car, do what I tell you, keep your mouths shut. That includes you," Gonzalez said, giving Lindsay a hard look.

"Mouth shut, got it," Lindsay said. "I assume more responsibility brings more money?"

"Yes, you'll be paid more money," Gonzalez sighed. "Now stay here, we'll be leaving shortly."

Even 'Sophia' knew to keep her mouth in check and avoid asking what the delivery was. She and Halstead stood near the front door for a couple of minutes while Gonzalez disappeared upstairs. When she came back down, there was a male member of the security team with her, and she was carrying two pistols in addition to the evident one on her hip.

"Two rules," they were told as the guns were handed over. "You don't fire at anyone unless we're under attack or I tell you to. There's no reason to expect it will be necessary. Second rule: if either of you point these guns at me or Ms Martinez, I'll kill you. Got it?"

"Clear as a bell," Halstead said. He checked the gun's clip to make sure the bullets were real, and made sure the gun was safe, as did Lindsay.

"You know what you're doing," Gonzalez commented without emotion.

"Would we be here if we didn't?" Lindsay said. It was a question that didn't need an answer.

"Right, let's go," Gonzalez said. "Juan, you drive. Jesse, Sophia, you're riding in the back."

On the way to the car, Halstead caught a look from Lindsay that said, 'So far so good.' He agreed. She had already made the decision not to notify Olinsky or to take any action during today's job. It would have been easy to go ahead and order a raid, but no, patience was the order of the day, while continuing to build all important trust with Martinez, and avoiding what could be a potential trap to try and get them to out themselves as cops and blow the operation.

The four of them got into the car, and Juan started driving without asking directions, or even what their destination was. Apparently he already knew it.

Halstead sat in the back, keeping his body language cool and his mouth closed. Lindsay had made the decision on how she wanted to handle this job, so he would go along with it. They were going to carry out their security duties and nothing more. There would not even be a hint of anything to arouse suspicion from Martinez. Not that he knew where she was. His best guess was that they would meet her at the destination.

Five minutes later, the best guess changed. The car had driven into an industrial district, with not much traffic around and a fair few empty buildings. A black van emerged from an intersection just ahead of them and turned to travel in the same direction that they were heading in. Juan got the car up close behind it to follow it. It became obvious that Martinez and whatever cargo they were delivering were in the van.

The rest of the journey took nearly ten minutes, with the destination being in another industrial district that was half full of abandoned warehouses. One of the derelict ones had its roller shutter door open. The van drove right in, and Juan followed, parking up beside it.

There was another van already parked inside, near some old oil drums. Several Hispanic men stood around waiting – likely the buyers for whatever Martinez was selling.

"Juan, with me. You two stay by the car and be ready to move if things go wrong," Gonzalez said, turning to look back at them momentarily.

"Understood," Halstead said. It was a disappointment. They wouldn't be close enough to see much as the deal went down. But for obvious reasons they couldn't object to their assignment.

Getting out of the car, he saw that Martinez and several men, Rodrigo among them, had gotten out of the van. For now, nothing was retrieved from the back of it.

Martinez and one of the men from the other party began conversing in Spanish. It all seemed friendly enough. Business had been done between them before, it appeared.

Halstead had very little Spanish, but it wasn't hard to figure out when a joke was made about the two white people over by the car. It also wasn't hard to figure out when the man said something like, "Here's the money."

One of the other men produced a large holdall from their van and put it on an oil drum. He opened it, and Rodrigo looked inside. From where he was standing, Halstead couldn't see into it. Rodrigo nodded to Martinez, who in turn nodded to two of her man by her van.

Those two men each removed a metal crate from the van and carried them over to the oil drums, where they were set down for inspection by the purchaser.

The two crates were opened, and the purchaser looked inside. Again, Halstead couldn't see what was inside. Whatever it was appeared to meet with approval, and the purchaser shook hands with Martinez.

Business concluded, both parties hastened back to their vans to leave. Gonzalez had stuck close to Martinez the whole time, and walked her back to her van. Only then did she return to the car. By then, Juan was also there.

"Let's go," Gonzalez said briskly.

Halstead and Lindsay returned to their seats in the back of the car, and it promptly pulled away, following right behind the van with the boss in it. In just a couple of minutes, the job had been done without incident.

* * *

"For what it was worth, that was a job well done this morning," Jay said when he and Erin walked back into the safe house that night.

"No. That was a test for sure," she said, taking her coat off. It was dumped over the back of a chair in the living room. "At least I figured it out. If I'd have had Al raid that warehouse, we'd have come away with nothing more than a blown operation and half ass gambling charges."

"I'm not saying you're wrong, but what makes you so sure?" Jay asked as he took off his own coat. He hung it one of the hooks near the front door.

"We got left by the car, where we would have been of little use if a shooting battle kicked off. And it just so happened that from there we couldn't see what was in those boxes, or see any money change hands. No, that was Martinez trying to draw us out, which means she still suspected we might be cops."

"But nothing happened. We stood there, did as we were told, and kept our mouths shut, just like Raquel said."

"Exactly," Erin smiled. "So maybe now Martinez will trust us, and we'll get brought in on a real gun sale. Next time we get a job like that, we hit it with everything we've got."

Jay walked over to her, put his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. "You know what's sexier than a really clever sergeant?"

"No?"

"Nothing," he said before they started passionately kissing each other.

* * *

Nearly two weeks had gone by since the arms deal, or the test, if that was what it had been. Either way, Halstead and Lindsay hadn't gotten near another job since. They were both getting thoroughly sick of the undercover mission, and of the safe house.

Halstead missed his own place, missed his own bed, missed his regular job, and missed his normal routine. He also often found himself wondering how Purrazzo was doing. As her mentor and partner, he had a real interest in her development as a member of Intelligence Unit. For nearly two months, she had been entrusted to Adam Ruzek. As much as he liked Ruze as a colleague and a friend, it wasn't the assignment he would have made.

On this particular day, thankfully in warmer weather now that the seasons were changing, Halstead and Lindsay were assigned to patrol around the Martinez house, keeping an eye out for anyone or anything out of place, not that there ever had been. Bayley liked all eventualities covered, which was one reason why she had proven hard to take down.

They were nearing the front door on their rounds when Raquel Gonzalez emerged in a hurry, clearly looking for them.

"Jesse, Sophia. You're wanted. Security for a delivery. Let's move."

"Yes, ma'am," Halstead said. As soon as their superior's back was turned, he shot a glance at Lindsay. She was thinking the same thing as him. This was the one they had been waiting for.

* * *

_A/N: Halstead and Lindsay think they're in business. How will things unfold if they call in the raid?_


	37. Chapter 37

As soon as they had found out that there was a gun delivery job on the go, Lindsay had pushed one of the buttons on her special watch, activating a tracker in it. The activation would also flash an alert on Olinsky's phone. He and the Intelligence team would now have to drop whatever they were doing and move their asses double time to follow them to the delivery point, wherever that was going to be.

Once they arrived at the location, she would press the button that had originally been used as the ten minute walking to raid the poker. This time, by prior arrangement, it would be a two minute warning. Intelligence and uniform would sweep in, round everyone up, and seize all guns and money that could be found.

At least, that was the plan, Halstead thought. He had been a cop long enough to know that plans could go awry once they were executed, and that would put him and Lindsay in grave danger if it came to pass. Danger didn't frighten him, he was beyond that at this point in his career. It was merely something to try and prepare for. Luckily, Raquel Gonzalez had issued them both with pistols again, so if things went seriously wrong they at least had something with which to defend themselves.

They were travelling in the back of a car, with Gonzalez and the guy called Juan up front. There was no tension in the atmosphere, which Halstead took as a good sign. The Martinez crew needed to be at ease before they walked into the trap that would be waiting for them. Or at least, would hopefully be waiting for them. There was no way to be sure if Olinsky and the team would get there in time.

Another thing to keep in mind was that he and Lindsay would be 'arrested' along with everyone else. It wouldn't be until they were back at the station that their undercover mission would end. It was also important that they didn't look like they were resisting arrest when the raid happened. Getting shot by some clueless uniformed officer wasn't on the list of things to do.

As before, albeit in a different location to the last time, the van containing Martinez, several men, and whatever was about to be sold, emerged ahead of the car at an intersection. These people were very good at coordination, there was no doubt about that.

A few minutes later, they were driving into a small industrial area behind a public park. Their destination was a warehouse, as before with the doors open at both ends. They were hidden from sight of the public by another warehouse.

"Right, we're here. Juan, with me. Jesse, Sophia, stand guard outside. Anyone tries to get in, shoot them."

Damn it, Halstead thought as Lindsay conveyed their understanding. Being left outside was not good. He wanted to be inside to witness what went down. But there was nothing he could do about it. Objecting to the assignment would look suspicious in the extreme.

Lindsay glanced at him, then pressed the button on her watch. In two minutes, no one in the warehouse would know what hit them.

Juan drove the car into the warehouse and parked it near to the Martinez van. As on the previous occasion, the buyers were there, ready and waiting. It was bad luck for them, since they were also about to be arrested.

As the group got out of the car, Gonzalez issued more orders. "Juan, get that door down. You two, outside. You'll be called back in when we're ready to leave."

Great, Halstead grumbled internally. Things had just gone from bad to worse. The regular entrance door for people beside the big roller shutter door was going to be the only way to access the building from the front, which would slow down the police operation as they entered. Fine margins could make all the difference to a raid like this one.

Reluctantly, without looking reluctant, he led the way outside, having to give the heavy wooden door a strong pull to get it open. Lindsay had to let it swing closed behind them, but it didn't do so with enough momentum to close properly.

"Not good, Jay. Not good at all," Lindsay muttered once they were outside. "I wanted to be in there to see Martinez go down."

"Me too," Halstead said. "But we are where we are. Any moment now, they're going to..."

The sound of roaring engines cut him off. A large group of vehicles came towards the warehouse at pace. Some were the unmarked ones that Intelligence used, others were squad cars. They were all travelling without sirens on so as to avoid alerting the criminals in the warehouse. Half of the cars turned to come to the front of the warehouse. The other half sped down the side of it, heading for the back entrance.

"Guns down, hands up. Now we hope for the best," Lindsay said.

Halstead followed her example, tossing his pistol and kneeling down with his hands up. Even the dumbest uniform would realise they were not a threat.

From their poor vantage point, they were able to watch the start of the raid. Two Intelligence cars were the first to screech to a stop nearby. Ruzek and Purrazzo bailed out of one, Olinsky out of the other. They rushed for the entrance door, assault rifles at the ready, without even looking at Halstead and Lindsay. Several uniforms were close behind them.

"Down on the floor! Interlock your hands behind your heads!" a male uniform yelled at the two of them. He had his gun on them, as did his partner. Whether or not he was aware who they were wasn't clear. If nothing else, it was good for keeping up the pretence that they were real criminals being arrested.

More uniforms moved in, and as he and Lindsay had their hands cuffed behind their backs, Halstead heard shouting from inside the warehouse. Police announcing themselves. People being ordered to drop their weapons. Panicked shouts from criminals. Then the gunfire started. It was awful not knowing what was going on, who was being shot at, who was being hit. Several people were firing, that much he could tell.

"Right, get up," the cop taking charge of Halstead ordered, hauling him to his feet. He was being a bit rougher than he might have been with an undercover detective, but Halstead kept his mouth shut. All that mattered to him was finding out what the outcome of the operation was, and that would have to wait until they were back at the station.

* * *

Nearly an hour later, Halstead was shown into an office at the 21st. No longer 'under arrest', he had a welcome cup of coffee in hand. Coming out of the undercover job was a big relief, yet he still felt tense. As yet, he didn't know what had happened in the warehouse. That would soon change when the debrief started. He sat down to wait and sipped his coffee.

The door opened less than a minute later, and Lindsay was shown in. The uniform doing the escort duties left them to it and closed to the door. With a moment of privacy on offer, Halstead got up and went to Lindsay. She looked stressed, which he tried to alieve with a kiss.

"You okay?" she asked him.

"Yes, you?"

"I'm okay. But no one has told me anything. I want to know what happened, damn it."

"I hear you," Halstead said with a sigh. "Al will be along soon, then we'll hopefully get..."

The door opened at that moment. It was Olinsky who walked in. His expression gave away immediately that there was news to come that wasn't good.

"I'm glad to see you're both okay," he said as an opener, closing the door.

"Thanks, Al. Now give us the bad news that I can tell you've got," Lindsay said tensely.

* * *

_A/N: Yes, I really did leave it there. I guess you'll just have to hate me. XD_

_What do you think the bad news is going to be?_


	38. Chapter 38

Alvin Olinsky took no pleasure in what he said to say. "We're missing several people from the Martinez crew. Some are likely back at the house, but..."

"Did we get Martinez or not?" Lindsay snapped at him, the tension taking it's toll on her patience.

"No. And we didn't get Raquel Gonzalez or Manu Diaz either. They go everywhere Martinez goes, so they would have been there."

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Lindsay raged. With the final exclamation, she hurled the phone that she had used during the undercover operation at the wall. It disappointingly refused to explode into a hundred pieces, or indeed any pieces. It just clattered to the floor.

Halstead was somewhat surprised by the furious outburst, but he certainly shared the frustration. So much hard work had gone into putting Martinez behind bars, only for her to escape the raid.

"How the hell did you let that happen?" Lindsay demanded of Olinsky.

"We hit the front and the back, succeeding in taking them by surprise. But when the shooting started, Martinez used it as cover to get out of a side door, a fire escape. Burgess went after them and fired shots. She's confident she hit Gonzalez in the arm, but they managed to lose her. I shot one man in the warehouse, and Purrazzo shot another. They're both dead."

"I didn't want a couple of heavies on slabs, I wanted Martinez behind bars!" Lindsay thundered.

Olinsky clearly didn't like being berated. Halstead could sympathise with that. Lindsay was going in a bit hard for his liking. "We did what we could. We had previous little time to get there, and essentially none to prepare our assault. If that side door hadn't been there we would have had them."

"That sounds like a bunch of excuses. Can I assume you've at least put a BOLO out for them? Not that it will matter, they'll be halfway to Mexico by now."

"Yes, ma'am," Olinsky said tensely.

Lindsay took a moment to try and compose herself. "Right, get back to Intelligence and assemble everyone. I want a full run down of this mess when I get there."

"Right," Olinsky said, promptly opening the door and leaving.

"Erin..." Halstead said once the door was closed. His intention had been to calm her down, but she blew up again.

"Two months, Jay! Two months of work down the fucking toilet!"

"I know, Er. I'm pissed off too. But the team did what they could in the situation they were presented with. I don't doubt that, and I'm sure you don't either. They're all going to be pissed that we didn't get Martinez."

"You're telling me not to be hard on them, is that it?" Lindsay demanded, standing with her hands on her hips. "I hope you're going to say the same to Superintendent Kelton when he comes down here to tear strips off me over this thing?"

Now Halstead was getting annoyed with her, adding to his own frustration over the blown mission. "You heard what I said. You keep talking about wanting to do better with man management. Maybe you should actually start putting it into action?"

With that he stormed out of the room and banged the door shut behind him. In a way he felt bad as soon as he had done it, but at the same time he felt like he had said something that had needed to be said. Lindsay walking into Intelligence and flying off the handle at people who had done their best in far from ideal circumstances was not what was needed, at least in his opinion.

Both professionally and personally, he wanted Lindsay to succeed at her job. But he couldn't make her lead the team the way he would. When all was said and done, she was the sergeant. He was a detective on her team. If she was determined to be a boss who tried to draw performance from her people by fear of a roasting rather than by inspiring a sense of loyalty and teamwork, then that was the way it would be.

At least no one got shot, he thought as he made his way through the station towards Intelligence. For a moment he had wondered if something like that was going to be the bad news. A failed operation he could live with. One of the team dying would have been something else altogether.

Even with the bad outcome on the Martinez job, Halstead looked forward to seeing the Intelligence guys again. Without exception, they were his friends as well as his colleagues. True, some were closer to him than others, but he tried his best not to draw distinctions between them.

Before getting to Intelligence, he had to pass the front desk. As ever, Sergeant Platt was on duty.

"Welcome back. Sorry about the result," she commiserated.

"Thanks. Does feel like a kick in the gut," he replied.

Not stopping to chat, he continued through the entrance area and up the stairs to Intelligence. The room was quiet and sombre when he walked in, finding everyone at their desks. They did perk up a bit when they saw him.

Atwater was the closest to him. He got to his feet and they exchanged a fist bump.

"Glad you're okay. That was a long time to be under," Atwater said.

"Especially to end up with nothing to show for it. It's good to see you though, man. Everything okay here?"

"All good. We just cracked a drugs case yesterday," Burgess said. She approached Halstead, and they shared a brief hug. It was the kind of hug that close friends who weren't good a hugs shared when they didn't know what other gesture might be appropriate.

"Hey, Kim. How are you? How's Alex?"

"He's missing his uncle Jay."

"Well I'll be sure to come over and see him. I figure his old man owes me a few beers and a char grilled steak."

"That a fact?" Ruzek said with a laugh as the two men shook hands. "I think we could work something out."

Next up was Purrazzo, who seemed even more subdued by the mission failure than the rest of the team. "Hey, I'm glad you're back, and you're safe," she said, managing a smile.

"Thanks, I'm glad to be back. Don't take this so hard. These things happen sometimes. We'll debrief it with Sergeant Lindsay, then we'll move on."

"Yeah," Purrazzo said, sounding unconvinced. She went back to her desk and sat down.

There was no sign of Zelina Vega, and he had already seen Olinsky, so Halstead went to his own desk. He wanted to ask Purrazzo what was wrong, getting the feeling something else might have gone on while he had been under. Now wasn't the time to get into it though. Besides, having had an extra minute to cool off a bit, Lindsay walked in.

For the boss, there was no group assembly to welcome her back. Everyone knew that the riot act was possibly, probably, coming their way.

"Okay everyone, we all know this was a big screw up today," Lindsay began as she walked to the far end of the room. Her tone was thankfully more measured than Halstead had expected, although it was evident that she was pissed off. "Let's talk about exactly what went wrong, and how the most important person we needed to arrest today managed to escape."

Olinsky took it upon himself to go first, since he had been in charge at the time of the raid. "Luckily, everyone was here at the 21st when the alert flashed up that you'd activated your tracker. We were able to get on the road and hurry in your direction. By the time you got to the warehouse, we weren't far behind. It gave us time to assemble the squad cars, and..."

To Halstead's surprise, Purrazzo pushed her chair back and stood up.

"It was my fault, Sergeant."

Everyone in the room looked at her with surprise, not least Lindsay. "What was your fault?" she asked.

"Martinez getting away was my fault. When we entered the warehouse, Officer Ruzek told me he was going left, and told me to go right. Detective Olinsky had gone straight forward, down the left side of a big stack of pallets. I went forward too, down the right side of the pallets. If I had gone right like Ruzek said, I would have been able to cover the fire escape door that Martinez and at least two other people ended up escaping out of."

Oh, man, Halstead thought. He was conflicted. The way his partner had just stood up in front of the whole team and taken responsibility had shown the remarkable guts that he already knew she had. But at the same time, she had made a pretty fundamental screw up, and it had blown two months of hard work. If she had done her part in effectively spreading the team out in the warehouse, Bayley Martinez would probably have been sitting in a cell by now.

"Why did you ignore what Ruzek told you to do?" Lindsay asked. Her voice was tight as she tried to keep her cool.

Purrazzo sighed, ashamed of what she had to say. "Because I thought I knew better, Sergeant. I take full responsibility for Martinez and the others escaping. You'll have my resignation from Intelligence on your desk tomorrow morning."

"No," Burgess said, shaking her head at the idea of resignation.

Lindsay kept her gaze locked on Purrazzo for a moment, giving herself time to decide how to react. When she did speak, she sounded angry, but she didn't fly off the deep end. "What did they teach you in the Marines, Purrazzo? Trust the person beside you, and make sure they can trust you, right?"

"Essentially, yes, Sergeant."

"You don't have to Sergeant me every time you answer. This is a team of elite officers and detectives, Purrazzo. Team being the operative word. On an operation like today's, if someone tells you to do something, you do it. We do not individually walk around choosing to do whatever the hell we want. You'll blow operations that way, and you'll get your teammates killed. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Crystal," Purrazzo said humbly.

"It was my decision to take on a promising, relatively inexperienced officer," Lindsay continued. "When I did that, I knew there would be one or two rookie errors. This is a big one, Purrazzo. If something like this happens again, we'll be having a different conversation. But for now, you won't be leaving the unit. What you're going to do is sit down, take part in what is going to be a very thorough debriefing session, and learn from the mistakes that were made. This does not happen again," she emphasised.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you," Purrazzo said, and retook her seat.

Halstead wanted to catch her eye and offer some reassurance, but she kept looking at Lindsay, probably too embarrassed to look at any of the others. He could relate. They all would be able to, having been inexperienced themselves and having made their own mistakes.

"Right then, let's get into this," Lindsay said, moving the large whiteboard into a position where they could all see what she was going to write on it.

* * *

Halstead felt drained by the end of the shift. When Lindsay had said she wanted to go over the botched operation analysed in detail, she hadn't been kidding. When her roasting from Kelton came, she was at least going to have answers for him.

"Right, I don't think there's anything else that can be said about this," Lindsay said eventually, to Halstead's relief. "Let's all go to Molly's for a drink. I know I could use one. The first round is on Purrazzo."

"Okay," Purrazzo said, smiling for the first time in hours. The small piece of humour had clearly lifted a weight off her shoulders.

"The only other thing I'm going to say is we should all watch our backs in case of reprisals, especially Halstead and myself. I have a feeling we've not seen the last of Bayley Martinez."

* * *

_A/N: Do you agree with how Lindsay handled the situation? What would you have done? And have we seen the last of Bayley Martinez?_


End file.
